


To the World

by Beedee87



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Archangels, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Past Lives, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22394314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beedee87/pseuds/Beedee87
Summary: Destiny is a strong word; but not quite as strong as ineffable.Crowley has always been on his own and has preferred it that way,and Zira has never had the time or patience for romance, but when the two of them meet unexpectedly in the park one day, they know their lives have changed forever.Crowley can't explain the visions he has had his whole life and somehow ZIra's presence keeps triggering them. Zira has had a strange repeating dream that's purpose may be revealed with time.A prophecy in a book, conveniently placed in their hands, just might reveal what their relationship means.... to the world.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. The Stage is Set

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! 
> 
> This is my first fanfiction EVER. In ANY fandom, so please be gentle. 
> 
> I was just so inspired by these boys I couldn't help myself. And, of course, what was meant to be a short story has turned into something much more. I'm posting the first 6 chapters and the rest will follow soon. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Anthony Jay Crowley was exactly 30 years old. People were often perplexed by the young man’s middle name. When asked what the J stood for he sarcastically and humorlessly replied "It’s just a J really...” and smirked at them behind his trademark sunglasses as they just nodded with confused looks on their faces. They also didn't understand why the young man insisted on being called by his last name instead of his first, but that’s an answer he usually didn't give. He wasn't in the business of sharing feelings.

Crowley was an odd, stand offish young man with a bit of a temper. Large, expressive, golden- hazel eyes hiding behind sunglasses with hell fire red hair was enough to scare off most people, but if they dared to saunter in to his tightly formed bubble they were asked to "Very much fuck off".

Being an abandoned orphan since the age of seven will do that to someone. Starting off with an abusive, alcoholic father and a cold, distant mother set Crowley up to be the sort of angry young man he had come to be. Years in and out of foster homes did not help with this demeanor nor the constant feelings he had of being useless, broken, and inevitably, unforgivable. So to compensate he had become hard, and ruthless. Having friends was certainly not on his to do list. All he knew was how to survive.

Sure he stayed in a flat in Soho with his former foster sibling, but this was, in his mind, for the sake of convenience. Tending bar wasn't exactly a huge money maker so affording his own flat wasn’t really conceivable.

When he wasn't working he spent most of his time strolling through St. James Park hissing at the ducks when they got too close, or in his small room listening to his music. He had always really loved music. Music for him was therapeutic, although he would never admit to this. It always allowed him to deflate; let go of some of his hardness and embrace the softer side of himself. He listened to Queen, Journey, and the classics obviously, but he also indulged in things such as the Velvet Underground, The Smiths, and The Cure. “Depressing music” he called it, which is why no one really knew about his musical tastes. It would allow too much conversation about things he did NOT talk about.

He was particularly fond of “A Boy with a Thorn in His Side" by The Smiths for obvious reasons (although he'd be damned if he would ever admit why), but more than anything, when he was feeling really down, he'd play "Just like Heaven" by The Cure for less obvious reasons.

He never understood why a song so drowned in love could have such an effect over him. Sure, there'd been the occasional boy who had made his heart beat go fast, but Crowley had never been in love. He wasn't sure if he even believed in love, or anything really, but every time that blasted song played his heart felt like it could burst, like it ached for something that made him irrationally happy. Then the song would end and so would the moment, leaving Crowley back to his usually unhappy and bitter thoughts.

He also loved to read (once again, he'd never admit it). So many years being torn from house to house had left him with a need to escape his reality. With no stability or anything to ground him, it helped to have something to come back to that would eternally, always stay the same.

He only had a few books, rugged and torn from being read over and over, hidden well underneath the mattress on his floor. He'd pull them out at night before bed, reading words he had that he practically had memorized. He was particularly fond of "Pride and Prejudice", something he most absolutely would never admit due to the romantic implications of it all. Despite himself, he couldn’t deny that the pain and the longing between Elizabeth and Darcy was strangely familiar.

In conclusion, Crowley was a hopeless romantic.

............................................................................................................................................................

Adrian Zira Fell was currently quite happy with how his life had been going. 35 years old and already owning his own book shop in Soho was everything he could have ever wanted. Sure, he had gotten a very big startup loan from his mother who currently resided in Tadfield, but his mother had insisted. He was, after all her only child, and Zira assumed that after years of watching him sitting behind a computer editing other people’s works, all she had wanted was for him to have his dream. The woman was a miracle really. He of course had told her it wasn’t necessary, and that he could figure something out on his own, but once she had her mind set to something it was pulling teeth to get her to stray from her plans.

Which is why he visited her every Saturday like this one. He loved spending time with her, as she had always made him feel warm and surrounded by love. She had always deserved his utmost devotion, which he gave willingly.

He had always loved to cook, learning much of what he knew from his mother, and always took the time to make a meal for her when he visited. This particular Saturday he had made her a beautiful lasagna, which he thought smelled delightful. He placed the dish before them in the middle of the large, antique dining table. Her bright blue eyes shined up in him in adoration as she reached a hand out to brush his feather blonde curls from his face. He returned the look with a smile as radiant as the sun.

"Oh Zira, you are so kind to me.” She smiled back, with a smile just as radiant as her sons. Zira had always thought she had a glow about her that made people light up around her immediately. “Although I really can cook for myself you know. I hate for you to go to all this trouble seeing that you have been quite busy setting up that new bookshop of yours."

"Mother, you know quite well that you are more important to me than that bookshop of mine. Now stop your squabbling and eat. I know I am absolutely famished,” he replied motioning towards the food.

She waved her hand at him to shoo him off as she placed a fork in the delicious food her adoring son had made for her. Sitting across from her, Zira began eating his own food and cherishing every bite. He loved to take his time with things he loved most, appreciating it from every angle, a trait his mother loved most about him. He began talking excitedly about his new bookshop and all the books he was able to acquire from various collectors.

She loved watching her son like this, so animated and free. He had always been happiest when he was able to enjoy his passions, and that happiness always spread to everyone he knew. She had always known her son was special from the day he was born into existence. Always with a smile on his face and a compassion much unknown to most. He had always been kind and always willing to lend a helping hand, or ear, to anyone who made needed it.

Yet, she knew he tended to deprive himself of what he wanted; feeling guilty for that appreciation she so loved about him. Always wrapped up in a book with a cup of tea, Zira often times forgot about what the outside world had to offer him. His largest flaw was that because of his all-consuming compassion and love for others, he tended to forget about his own emotional needs.

"So my dear," she began between bites, "Have you met any special young men recently?"

"Mother!" he squawked, nearly spitting out pieces of food (only nearly, Zira was always quite proper). "You do know that I don’t like to discuss such things". He stared down at his food as a bright pink color donned his cheeks.

She giggled inwardly as to not embarrass her son further but grinned knowingly.

"Oh come on Zira! I only ask because with the bookshop opening and all, I only wondered if you had come across anyone who had caught your eye.”

Zira continued to stare at his food before he glanced quickly at his mother’s obviously amused face. She could be so down right manipulative with her big blue eyes and knowing stares, but this is why he loved her so.

"No. Not as of yet. It has only been a week and I've quite a few things taking precedent at the moment.” Zira looked a bit embarrassed and lost before he quickly diverted the conversation back to his new favorite topic, face lighting up once more. “Did I tell you that the bookshop already had quite a few books? They told me the previous owner had passed away, sadly so, without any family to pass the things on to. So they were just abandoned and forgotten. First editions of Wilde, Bronte! It is really quite the miracle! Just stuffed in a cupboard like they were nothing! It’s absolutely astonishing!"

"Yes, quite a miracle...” she replied grinning and lowered her gaze back to her meal before Zira could see the mischievousness in her eyes.

_Sometimes children just need a miracle, and a push in the right direction_ , she thought to herself.

She dropped the issue of Zira's heart for now, placing it on a shelf until the time was right. Parents should always strive to fix what's hurting their children.


	2. New Introductions

Crowley had decided to go for one of his pre-work walks at St. James that day. He didn't have to be in for his shift for another two hours so he decided fresh air would do him some good. He had, as he always did, a small moleskin journal with a small sharpened down pencil in his pocket. Sometimes he liked to peruse the rose garden (he had always loved admiring the greenery) and write or draw some of his random thoughts into the small notebook. Nothing ever cohesive enough to form a story, or even a journal really, but Crowley sometimes had these things he had always called "flashes". Moments when something would pop into his mind that he would need to hurriedly jot down before he forgot.

Only the other day, when eating an oyster at his work (Seafood Saturday at the pub, as his boss liked to call it), had a face and a smile flashed in his mind. It only appeared for a few seconds before it faded away, but it was enough to jolt him out of reality. Most of the time the flashes were brief enough that no one noticed, but they were jarring enough to space him out.

He couldn't make a whole lot of sense of them, and he clearly never shared this with anyone. He often thought he might be mentally unwell, but he did not show any other symptoms that might infer that he might need to seek professional help.

Even though they never made sense he still tried to patch the pieces together via his notebook. He thought if he could just get it all down, that somehow, some day, it would all make sense.

Which is why he had spent the night before sketching the face from his vision as best he could, although the few seconds of the flash did not give him an exceedingly amount of detail to work with. More vividly were the emotions that had attached themselves to the image. He had jotted down the feelings under the sketch...

_Elation._

_Belonging._

_Home._

Perhaps that's because he was listening to that blasted song again.

He strolled through the gardens and found his bench, which was strangely always open for him, like it belonged to him. He usually sat to do some brooding, sketching, thinking, and then enough sullen menace for another burst of brooding before he left.

He always draped his lanky body across the bench in a way that said there was no invitation for anyone to join him. Not that they would anyway. His tight black jeans, sunglasses, hell-fire hair, alongside his sharp jawline were enough to either scare people away, or at least intimidate them enough with his good looks to make them look elsewhere.

Crowley opened up his notebook to stare at the sketch of the face from his vision, hoping to trigger something that might make sense of it all. The outline showed a soft face with even softer eyes, light curly hair and a strangely tipped nose. The most significant feature, (significant because of what it made Crowley feel) was a heartbreakingly sweet smile. He was infuriated that his mind was doing this to him, when none of it made any bleeding sense.

Even coming here to St. James Park on the regular was a product of one of his flashes. Crowley had always been drawn to parks, due to his fascination with plants and gardens, but never took it upon himself to start visiting here until a few years ago.

Usually his visions manifested while he was out and about, but occasionally they had creeped into his sleep. One night he had a dream that he had been here feeding the ducks with someone, an activity he had never actually engaged in. He of course couldn’t actually make out the figure, as their whole image seemed to be a blur, but he was able to determine that it was another man.

In the dream, standing side by side with this man, he had the same feelings that this face now invoked upon him. The feeling of home. Crowley had no idea how he could even conceive of such a feeling. He had never had a home.

_It means something. It has to mean something_ , he had thought.

But what exactly it meant, he just couldn’t determine. So naturally, he sketched the dream, and as he usually did, he buried it deep until, inevitably another flash would happen. Despite burying it, he still found himself wandering into St. James one day, and he had been coming ever since. He told himself it was because he needed to get more exercise, but in actuality it was because he was chasing the feelings from the dream. He knew it wasn't the park itself that made him feel that way, but somehow it managed to make a sliver of the feeling linger more. Like an excellent scent that is able to trigger the most profound memories and sense of nostalgia.

Crowley sat lost in thought and thumbed the pages of his notebook, jotting a few things down when he suddenly heard a loud squeal coming from right down the path. He broke his train of thought and looked up to see a young man, around his own age, apologizing profusely to a very crabby looking woman. Crowley was able to infer from the interaction that the man had apparently just run smack into the now angry woman, scattering her belongings from her purse and onto the ground. Crowley’s gaze drifted to a very old looking and roughly read book laying on the sidewalk; out of place among the various other items scattered around it.

Crowley glanced back up, slightly smirking and interested in what was about to be a very entertaining interaction. The woman hardly caught Crowley's eye, but his gaze drifted once again to the man with better focus this time. Crowley appraised him, and found that he was actually quite interesting. He had to be around Crowley's age, but was dressed as if he were 20 years older with khaki slacks and a matching blazer, blue collared shirt, and blasted if the man wasn't sporting a tartan bow tie. Crowley felt the curve of his lips go up in a curious half grin, but quickly self-corrected.

"My dear lady, I am so very sorry. I can be so clumsy at times! I don't know where my head is today," the young man continued to say as he picked up a tube of what appeared to be lipstick off the ground. The man turned towards the overly snappy lady to hand the woman her things and Crowley noticed how the sun shone through the young man's feathery blonde hair. What an odd thing to notice, he thought to himself. Crowley shook the thought from his head just in time to see the man give the woman the biggest, most heartwarming smile possible. Crowley's heart felt like it stopped.

_That smile......that blasted smile._ _I know that smile.._

Crowley felt sick and intrigued all at once.

"Young man, I'd say your nose was very much in that bloody book you were reading. You can't go around reading while you’re walking! What did you think was gonna happen you git!?" The woman’s voice had gotten much louder than it had in the beginning and Crowley could see she was mashing her teeth together, looking like she was ready to pounce.

"My dear woman, I sincerely apologize. I did not mean--" the man began holding up his hands, desperately trying to sooth the situation, but he was abruptly cut off by the woman who continued to berate him. She was beginning to make a scene as other park patrons started to look on, worry and annoyance carved onto their faces.

That, for some reason, made Crowley's blood boil, and uncharacteristically he slammed his notebook shut, left his bench, and sauntered over towards the altercation.

"Do you know what kind of accidents these things can cause? It's like someone bloody texting and driving you wanker!" the woman continued as she began to screech. The man had lost his ability to form words, and his face was now one of devastation and humiliation. Crowley growled internally.

_That poor angel’s face----wait angel? Where the blast did that come from?_

Crowley cleared his thoughts as an anger he had never felt before seeped into his bones. It was sort of a possessive type of anger that he could not explain.

"Oi! You! Lady!" Crowley called as he started to approach them. The woman and the young man glanced over at him, both wearing looks of surprise.

"The boy said he's bloody sorry. Get on with it, eh?" Crowley barked and glared glaringly at the woman. At this point in his life, he knew exactly the tone of voice and inflection to use that would send someone running for the hills. The sunglasses that were always glued to his face were an added bonus in the art of making people uncomfortable.

The woman shifted her feet side to side, clearly still caught up in her moment of anger, thinking of her next move. Wisely so, her next move was to huff exasperatedly and shove past both of them continuing on down the path.

The young man brought a hand to his chest and sighed in relief. He looked up to lock eyes with his current rescuer. After locking eyes, it took everything for his current rescuer to remember how to use words. Or rather, how not to die on the spot. Kind and beautiful blue eyes sunk into Crowley's. Eyes so blue Crowley felt like he might drown in the depths of them. The moment felt like it went on forever, but Crowley realized that along with losing his mind, he had also lost all sense of time.

Finally, the young man spoke, "Oh, oh thank you. How terribly embarrassing. That was quite, well that was quite an interaction I dare say." He was smiling once again, looking very appreciative at the now not quite so menacing Crowley. His eyes had appeared to soften behind the dark sunglasses as his eye brows raised inquisitively.

"Yup" was the only word Crowley's lips were able to form as he shifted from side to side, hands in his pockets. Crowley knew he had to break away from this man's eyes before he made a complete fool of himself. He quickly remembered the book he had seen and used it as an opportunity to glance down at the rugged old thing still laying on the side walk.

The young man followed Crowley’s gaze. "Oh my book! I forgot all about my book,” he said, causing a quick flash of an image to jump in Crowley's head. 

_A church of all things? A bloody church?,_ Crowley thought exasperated.

He waved the image from his head as he quickly bent down to pick up the fallen book.

Crowley righted himself and once again locked eyes with this peculiar stranger as he handed over the book. The man reached out to take it smiling that same smile, saying thank you profusely as if being overly polite was in style.

"Ngk" Crowley responded, cursing himself internally as his brain was seeming to refuse to function properly. Their fingers brushed one another’s ever so slightly as he handed back the book and Crowley had another flash.

Just two hands and a large brown leather bag being handed over. Crowley shook his head slightly to rattle the new image away. He then observed the young man clasping his own hand open and shut as if he had just been shocked, which Crowley found very interesting.

"Thank you, my dear fellow. I find I'm rather not suited for altercations such as that. My name is Zira. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance" The young man did not offer his hand in greeting, but instead smiled profusely, which seemed odd for someone so polite. Nevertheless, Crowley was grateful for the gesture as he did not want to experience what would happen if their hands touched completely.

"Um, yeah, right. Crowley". He tried to sound as cool and calm as possible as he introduced himself, two things he was certainly not feeling at the moment. He was also not used to introducing himself, which added to the jangle of nerves moving like shockwaves through his entire body. He was grateful for being so lanky in the moment, because he wasn’t even sure he could control his limbs to move properly. The man named Zira seemed to be the opposite, presenting with perfect posture. Crowley actually thought it sort of cute.

_Cute? CUTE???_ Crowley was seriously starting to wander if he had indulged in any alcohol that morning. Or perhaps he had taken some sort of drug?

"Well that's quite an interesting name" Zira replied, continuing to smile and beam at him like he was the most interesting person in the world. That was also quite a new feeling Crowley wasn’t sure how to adjust to.

"Oh, and Zira is a run of the mill name, eh?" Crowley asked a little tenser than he intended. For once, he did not intend it, but the combination of new feelings and circumstances were making him fall back on his old habits of being snarky when he felt afraid. He would never admit he was afraid of course, but he most certainly was.

Zira took it all in stride, seeming not to notice Crowley’s tone, as he laid a hand on his chest once more and bellowed out a giggle. That was a giggle, right?

"Oh dear boy, you are quite right. My first name is actually Adrian, but my mother always called me by my middle name. I believe I was named after a great, great, grandfather or some sort."

Crowley nodded, trying to soften his features and give a hint of a smile back. He was actually cursing himself for looking so sodding scary all the time. For some reason, he did not want to scare this man away. He actually cared what this stranger thought of him; another new feeling for him to antagonize over. He decided it best to turn on his snarky charm, the tactic he used if he actually wanted to participate in a conversation but not appear too friendly. It seemed like the safest option in his current predicament.

"So what books so good that you have to go around face planting strangers in the park for?" he asked cunningly.

Crowley noticed a slight blush grace Zira's face as he jostled the book back and forth in his hands and knew that his tactic was working, at least for the moment.

"I'm afraid nothing quite as new and modern as a Stephen King novel. You'll think me pretentious if I tell you" Zira smiled once more, but with not as much heart behind it. Crowley could tell Zira was used to others putting him down for his interests. A hint of that earlier possessive anger reared its head.

"Who read's those blasted books anyway?" Crowley responded, scrunching his face disapprovingly and waving a hand in the air dramatically as if to dismiss any judgmental thoughts Zira seemed to be preparing himself for. Crowley really did not like that look on his face.

_Why do you even care?_ Crowley’s mind continued to race, trying to make sense of the current situation.

Like a miracle, the dejected look on Zira’s face vanished and his smile returned.

"Well, if you must know, it's Anna Karena. It's a most wonderful story, so rich and complicated with human emotion-"

"Yup. I love that one." Crowley interrupted.

Did he just admit he reads? Was he really going to tell this bloody stranger about the worn out copy stashed under his mattress? Was he going to tell him he had read it a hundred times?

Zira's face matched his in surprise and his face lit up like the blasted sun again.

_How in blasted heaven does he do that? No one should be able to smile like that. It’s too bloody adorable is what it is. Downright wrong._

Crowley couldn’t stop himself from wanting to keep pulling that look from Zira.

"My dear, another Tolstoy reader my age! How bizarre!" Zira exclaimed, waving his hands in the air with excitement. “I’ve hardly ever met anyone else who loves classic literature the way I do. It’s quite a novelty in today’s age, oh with all those tech gizmos and what not.”

Crowley laughed and couldn't help but grin back. “Tech gizmos?” He asked, laughing in a way that made his comment seem more like a tease instead of an insult.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Zira waved his hands in the air as to brush off the comment. His eyebrows scrunched together, lips tightening, and acting a bit offended, but grinning at the end. He was actively going along with Crowley’s teasing, which Crowley found he enjoyed quite a bit.

"Would you, erm, like to go for a walk?" Crowley asked awkwardly, shifting his gaze downwards and placing both hands back in to the pockets of his too tight jeans. He remembered the need to be charming and added, "I mean, unless you need to get back to your book. Wouldn't want to prevent you from getting into more trouble". He cocked his eyebrow and grinned mischievously.

A strange looked flashed across Zira’s face as if he was a bit taken aback. Perhaps Crowley wasn't the only one bewildered from their interaction.

The look disappeared almost as quick as it began and Zira was smiling at him once more.

"That sounds absolutely lovely. I would be delighted," Zira replied. Crowley motioned with his hands to begin walking, and soon enough they were strolling side by side down the path.

The sun was beginning to set, and the sky had begun to develop a lovely pink tinge to it. Crowley looked up admire it, taking a deep breath before thinking the color rather looked similar to the one Zira had on his cheeks earlier. He quickly looked straight ahead to drown the thought from his mind. What was wrong with him?

He could feel Zira sneaking glances at him and Crowley resisted the urge to look back. He could feel the wind blowing ever so slightly, knowing that it would be blowing through those beautiful white feathery curls he had been admiring earlier. He really needed to get control of himself.

Zira was the first to break the silence and Crowley was eternally grateful for it.

"So, Crowley, tell me about yourself. What is it that you do for a living?"

Crowley’s first reaction was to ask why Zira talked as he did, but then thought to himself that it was actually adorable and managed to swallow his snarkiness down.

"Tend bar over at Weston's" he replied, short and simple.

"Ah, how nice. I do so love a fine bottle of wine now and again." Zira said as he smiled up at him once more.

Crowley couldn't help but cock an eyebrow in response. Zira didn't appear to be someone who would indulge, but perhaps Crowley mistook him.

"What bout’ you?" Crowley asked still trying to look straight ahead, but the more minutes that passed the more challenging it was becoming. He wanted to see that lovely smile again.

Zira grinned, obviously pleased with his upcoming answer. "I actually just opened my own book shop. I specialize in collectors’ items of the sort." he tilted his head up at Crowley gauging his reaction.

"Hah, course you do. Seems that would fit you fine." Crowley smirked down at him and felt his heart jump in his throat as Zira returned the look.

They continued walking on a bit when Zira looked up to him again with anticipation and a bit of hesitation.

"So, dear fellow, you said you loved Anna Karena. I do so obviously love to talk about literature, if the bookshop wasn’t any indication. Would you indulge me and tell me why?"

This was a bit uncomfortable for Crowley, and Zira could tell even with the sunglasses glued to his face.

Crowley had never talked about his likes with anyone. As far as everyone was concerned, Crowley just didn't like things, and that usually included themselves.

Despite that, something was stirring in his belly, a swirl of confusion and, dare he think it, butterflies. Not only had he never talked about things, but he had never WANTED to talk about things.

Until now.

"Well," he started. "You said the bit about human emotion, yeah?"

Zira smiled and nodded, and Crowley could see the doubt in the beautiful blonde man's eyes.

He knew if he was going to keep Zira's attention he would have to give him something real, and for once Crowley actually wanted to.

“Well, Anna, I think is, uh, misunderstood. She spends her entire life trapped by rules, and other men, and all she wants s’ to be loved. Like, really, actually, loved, and she loses it all because of it. Quite a lesson in a story like that."

Zira's expression turned woeful then, the grin vanishing and replaced with knotted eyebrows and a downturned mouth, which felt like a dagger to Crowley. He panicked, worrying he had said too much, but he knew he'd given Zira enough. He'd just given more than he ever had.

Zira looked down at the ground while they continued to walk, and Crowley could practically see the gears turning inside the man's head. He obviously loved the complexity of stories and also loved to talk about them.

After several moments of contemplation, Zira looked up once more with a less sullen expression.

"Yes, my dear fellow, that is very true indeed,” Zira replied nodding his head in agreement. “It shows the importance and significance of how the desire for passionate love and lust can drive us to do many things, especially when one is trapped in unsavory situations. Although, what of Levin and Kitty? I would argue that their coming together proves that genuine love, nurtured under the right conditions, can very well thrive, can it not?"

Crowley tilted his head to the side to that. The angel had a point.

_There it was again...the angel._

Crowley shook the thought away, desperately trying to focus on the conversation at hand and very much attempting to ignore the weirdness that was his brain.

"You've got me there,” he responded seeming to appease Zira. “But I'd argue that there's a lot more Annas and Vronskys out there than Kittys and Levins. It’s reality Ange-" He halted before the words could leave his mouth, just as another flash hit him. This time the flash was just the sound of Crowley’s own voice..

_It's reality Angel....._

Apparently Crowley’s lizard brain was refusing to cooperate and he felt his face flush. He was absolutely mortified by how terribly he was managing to screw this all up. "Ngk, sorry, it’s Zira. Bloody terrible with names, me" Crowley said, his speech coming out a bit fragmented. He noticed that same strange look on Zira's face again; his features a bit scrunched up like he was contemplating something.

Zira seemed to recover, but Crowley felt like he had just made a huge mistake. He wondered if Zira was a little miffed that Crowley didn't remember his name (even though that wasn’t technically true). Crowley internally cursed himself, a habit he was quite used to.

Zira smiled again, this time without as much heart, and Crowley felt like he had just stolen the sun.

_You asshole. Now he thinks you’re a complete git._

“That’s quite alright dear. I understand. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own world I forget what day it is; lest you forget that I did in fact run head on into a stranger today.” Zira responded and softly laughed.

Crowley couldn’t help but think that it was a gorgeous sound, not to mention that Zira was actually quite funny. Crowley laughed along with him, his own chuckle sounding a bit foreign to his ears.

“S’pose we’ve all got our flaws, yeah?” Crowley retorted still carrying a huge grin on his face. Zira seemed to appreciate that, as his own smile ignited once again. Crowley felt a vast wave of relief.

"Ah, I suppose we do,” Zira responded, “Although it is rather helpful to have someone to help you when you falter"

“Yup. Could see how that’d be useful” Crowley felt another flush in his face, as he smiled and looked down at his feet.

“So, my dear, based off your comments regarding the story, it seems that your one of those pessimistic romantics then?" Zira asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

"S’pose I am.” Crowley responded and looked over at Zira, locking eyes once again. Crowley felt a rush of warmth and Zira appeared to be turning the color of the soft pink sky once more, a little smile on his thin lips. His gaze shifted from Zira’s eyes and he found himself temporarily distracted by those rosy lips and thanked the heavens that he was wearing sunglasses.

Zira broke the moment, eyes wide with excitement as he looked over at the pond on their left. "Oh, would you mind terribly if we stop here for a moment? It's just I do so _love_ to feed the ducks when I’m here," he asked, turning towards Crowley with both hands clasped together, as if he were pleading. Crowley had never really understood the phrase “puppy dog face” until that moment, and did not think he could ever say no to a face literally so perfect.

Crowley glanced over and noticed his surroundings for the first time since they began their walk, wondering how they had already walked so far. He hadn’t realized how distracted he had been and was clueless to the amount of time that had passed.

"Sure, Zira, Anything you want" he replied, not knowing why in the hell he had answered that way. What in the heavens was happening to him?

Zira beamed up at him again before walking over towards the pond. Crowley quickly joined him and they both stood, side by side leaning against the fence that guarded the edges of the pond. Crowley briefly wondered if this was to protect the ducks from people, or if it was to protect the people from ducks. They could be down-right nasty creatures; always honking loudly at him when he passed.

Zira quickly pocketed his book in the oversized blazer he was wearing, before pulling out a small bag of bread crumbs. Before crumbs had even hit the water, ducks were coming up to them and flocking around.

Crowley leaned lankily against the fencing facing Zira and smirked before inevitability starting to tease, aiming to utilize the skills he knew he was good at.

"You do _know_ s’not good for them right? Somethin’ to do with nutritional value and all that" he asked with his best playful grin.

In a matter of seconds Crowley really wished he hadn't asked as the response he got was the most heartbreaking face he had ever seen in his life, and he had seen some pretty awful shit in his day. Despite that, nothing had ever quite made him feel the way he felt right now. Completely wrecked.

"Is that right?,” Zira frowned; a more accurate description being that he pouted as his eyebrows shifted closer together, lips puckering out slightly. “My goodness, what an oaf I am".

Crowley panicked again quickly correcting before Zira could place the breadcrumbs back in his pocket, "I'm just teasing. Its bleedin’ fine. The ducks will appreciate it. Mean look at em’, bunch of lazy beggers" he gestured towards the pond, waving his hands around. The ducks seemed to agree as a couple of them honked in impatience. “Told ya, bunch a little ingrates”

Zira laughed as Crowley berated the ducks. He smiled up towards Crowley, but not without looking a bit peeved.

_How could one face have so many expressions?_

"Oh, you fiend. You almost had me, _and_ you almost had to deal with me being very inconsolable. I would never want to hurt these poor, lovely creatures” Zira gleefully pulled the crumbs back out and began throwing them to the now ravenous ducks below.

That’s when it finally hit him. Quick and jolting like a storm in the middle of the ocean, or an ever confusing page in the journal tucked in his back pocket.

_The dream...the man…the blasted park..._

All of it was here, right in this moment, and so was that feeling Crowley was always desperately searching for. The feeling of warmth, and of home.

Now that Crowley had it in his grasp he wasn't sure he could ever let it go. He was beginning to feel much like a greedy child.

Crowley had a lot of thoughts he suppressed and buried all the time. He had become quite the expert at it, especially with a mind as creative and constantly buzzing as he had. One thought crossed his mind however, that he didn’t want to bury. Crowley thought with absolute certainty, that whatever this was forming between him and Zira, the answers he had been searching for were here. He knew that whatever the cost, Crowley _needed_ to keep this.

They stayed like that for a while, conversing about this and that. Zira mostly talked excitedly about the opening of his new book shop and the difficulty of learning that he actually had to _sell_ his books, which Crowley found highly amusing. Crowley spoke some about the wanders of making drinks, and mostly about the dastardly types of people that ordered certain drinks. They talked more about books, but Crowley never admitted to his secret Jane Austen obsession. He had a feeling that Zira would tease him endlessly about it and he wasn’t quite ready to open himself up to that sort of torment. Zira spoke a bit about his personal affairs, telling Crowley about his sweet, and beautiful mother who resided in his home village Tadfield. Crowley was grateful Zira didn’t inquire into his own family specifics, and used his special art of deflecting, asking questions back to Zira when he could. He wasn't quite ready for that conversation yet, and wasn’t sure he ever could be. He absolutely loathed the look of pity on every single persons face when he explained his situation.

The last of the bread crumbs were thrown as Zira wiped he hands together and brushed off the rest, smiling contently. Surprisingly, Crowley's attention wasn’t on the smile he had already become attached to, but was instead drawn to Zira’s hands. He watched as they moved and noticed they were very well kept, but also strong. They were stunning.

"Well my dear fellow, I best be getting back to the shop. Still quite a lot of inventory to sort through," Zira announced, looking up at Crowley fondly.

Crowley felt like he could melt on the spot. Right there on the blasted sidewalk; until he was nothing more than a puddle of goo.

"Sure, sure. Course, ngh, so" Crowley was truly making a mess of human language which seemed to make Zira grin again, raising his eyebrows waiting for Crowley to go on.

"Could I come by the book shop some time?" Crowley asked, one hand reaching up to his neck anxiously while trying to conceal the desperation in his voice. "Maybe I could help, I dunno, with inventory or something? Not like a job, not asking for a job." He was really fucking this up but Zira just stood there smiling, eyes beaming, looking as if he was trying to hide his complete amusement at Crowley. "I just mean, as like, a friend, ya know, helping out or whatever." He finally finished stammering, internally cursing the day he was born this idiotic.

"My dear fellow, I would love that!" Zira exclaimed. He began fishing in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a beat up looking flip phone. Crowley had to stop himself from bursting out laughing and instead just blankly stared at Zira as he went to hand him the phone.

"Would you kindly put your info in this?" Zira asked beginning to hand it over.

Crowley couldn’t contain himself, momentarily forgetting his own moment of embarrassment, and laughed loudly, "I will do my best, but damn Zira, this is a bloody dinosaur phone", he teased, pretending to inspect it.

Zira scowled at him while hiding a smirk, “Oh, hush, it is not. It’s a perfectly good mobile device”

Crowley shook his head while he continued to giggle, and finished putting his info in the phone before handing it back. Their fingers brushed once more, and the spark hit Crowley just as hard as it did before.

Zira seemed to almost jump as if he had been shocked and let out a small, nervous laugh. "Right, very well. I'll speak with you soon then." Zira said and Crowley just nodded.

Zira turned then making his way to the street and Crowley watched entranced as he walked away. He certainly wasn't expecting Zira to turn around and look at him again. He'd been caught staring like a creeper, but Zira just smiled ear to ear before saying "Thanks again for the rescue Crowley". He turned back then and headed further away from him.

Crowley could feel a dread creeping in with each step Zira took away from him before he thought to look at his watch. He was an hour late for work.

"Blast!” he yelped as he ran back towards his car.

Later that night, Crowley wrote more in his journal than he'd ever had.


	3. Cat and Mouse

Zira bustled along happily back to his little moped parked alongside the road. He was quite proud of it, even if he did get him a few stares here and there. It was better for the environment and saved him quite a deal of money. He wasn’t particularly fond of the blue helmet he had to strap on top of his head, but miraculously his fluffy blonde curls always sprang right back into place. Thank god for small miracles.

Zira could not seem to stop smiling, his face beginning to ache from the constant grin he had on his face the entire time he spent with Crowley. In his defense, he did tend to smile quite a lot most of the time. However, it was not usually to this extent.

He knew he had just experienced something strange, but also eerily familiar, in his interaction with Crowley that he couldn't quite put his finger on. There had been quite a great deal of de’ja’vu, and an instant fiery connection the moment their eyes had locked.

He strapped the helmet on to his head lost in his thoughts, replaying the afternoon back in his mind like a movie. As he sat down and turned on the ignition he noticed the busy London traffic and decided it best to brush the distracting thoughts away for now. He just needed to head home and settle in with a nice glass of red and a book. His therapeutic routine always helped to clear his busy mind.

By the time he had arrived back at the bookshop his head was swimming with questions, his drive having been distracted despite his best efforts.

Who exactly was this strange Mr. Crowley he had just met and why had the very sight of him shook him to his core? Glancing up at the loud abrasive man had left his breath unable to leave his body and a tingling feeling in his stomach.

Was this the man he had always had strange dreams about?

For as long as Zira could remember, he had a repeating dream about a beautiful, fire haired man and it was the same dream every time.

It always began with him sitting outside on a beautiful sunny day on a park bench. He would turn to look to his left and beside him sat his twin. An exact replica of himself, except different somehow. The posture was all wrong. His double would be slouched down on the bench, legs spread out, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, a pose Zira would never ever find himself in. The lookalike would glance back, and they would begin talking, but he was never able to hear the words. Zira then reached out his hand to grab the doppelgangers, and he would slowly see his face transform into a red-haired man wearing sunglasses…but frustratingly he couldn’t make out the man’s exact features. That was the infuriating bit about dreams. They always had a haze and blurriness about them.

They spoke again to each other for a moment and the last thing he would see is the man laughing beautifully at him, caught up in a moment of pure joy. Zira could hear the laugh as clear as day, and the sound was gorgeous. He always woke up then feeling disoriented; like somehow he had just been jerked out of reality and that the surroundings of his own home were the dream instead. It always took him a few minutes to recover.

He had always thought it bizarre, and as he got older, a bit worrisome even. The dream did not occur as frequently as it once did, usually only happening around once a year after Zira hit his teenage years. When he was younger he would often tip-toe to his mother’s room, and slide into bed next to her, as if he had just had a nightmare (though it was a bit nightmarish to him at the time). She had always been so good at being reassuring. Being a single-mother had not always been easy; Zira’s father had died before he had been born. Somehow though, she had managed to be his constant comfort, but also the hero who would shoo the monsters from under the bed. He of course told her about the dream, asking her about the fire-haired man.

She brushed the hair from his eyes, and smiled gently. “Well maybe you knew him in a past life."

They were not a particularly religious family, but Zira had always been raised a Christian, so his mother’s response had always perplexed him so.

He asked, his little face riddled with confusion, “But, I thought when we die we just go to heaven? How would I have known him?"

"Ah..."she replied, "My sweet Zira. No one truly knows God's plans do they? They are ineffable."

"Ineffable,” he repeated to himself. It would be some time later in life that he would finally come to understand that word.

But now, everything was turned topsy turvey wasn't it? Did he really just meet the man from his dream? And if so, why had everything that Crowley had done and said made him feel like he was in an American cinematic movie, where he was the damsel who swooned?

"Ineffable" he said, to no one as he braced his back against the door of the shop. He shook his head, and ran his fingers through his hair trying desperately to straighten his thoughts. This was absolute insanity, of course. Crowley couldn't possibly be the man in his dream; it was simply just coincidence. He had come to the conclusion a long time ago that the dream was simply a result of his creative, and hopeless romantic mind combined with reading thousands of stories from every subject that inevitably leaked in.

Zira was a logical man by nature. He loved science, math, and above all things, great literature. There was no doubt in his mind that he would find a way to categorize this too. He was very good at things like that.

He took a deep breath and made his way up to his loft on top of the shop. He had been very fortunate that such a thing was included when he bought the place. There was no sweeter dream to him than living amongst all of his beloved books. He didn't have nearly the amount of inventory yet to fill all of the numerous bookcases in his shop, but ever the optimist, he knew he eventually would.

He carefully hung up his pristine blazer before making his way to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. He did actually have inventory to do, but that would have to wait. He really only needed a reason to slip away from Crowley’s presence, the interaction a bit too intense for him to have handled much longer before he turned into a complete idiot. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of Crowley trying _not_ to gaze at him through his sunglasses.

Zira made a mental note to ask Crowley why he wore those sunglasses…

He turned the bottle of wine around in his hand and glanced at the label.

_I wonder if Crowley would like this one?_

He proceeded to roll his eyes and quietly told himself to get a grip. He hardly even knew the man, but already he was consuming his every thought.

He made his way to the sofa, glass of wine in hand, and kicked off his shoes. He settled in to his comfy reading chair with his rugged copy of Anna Karena tucked carefully in his lap. He opened up the book and flipped through the pages to find his spot when Crowley’s words played in the back of his mind.

_“Well, Anna, I think is, uh misunderstood. She spends her entire life trapped by rules, and other men, and all she wants is to be loved. Like, really, actually, loved, and she loses it all because of love. Quite a lesson in a story like that."_

Crowley obviously had some darkness behind those lenses. Some sort of hurt that Zira desperately wanted to figure out.

_Why am I entirely obsessed with a man I met mere hours ago?_

His thoughts led him to his phone which he pulled from his pocket. He flipped it open staring at the screen for a moment before opening his contacts to look at the new entry.

**Crowley**

In a moment of spontaneity Zira pushed the message icon. He again stared at the screen for a minute or so before closing the phone shut with a loud snap. It was _entirely_ too soon to initiate contact and he did _not_ want to appear desperate or just plain strange.

_Best to give it a few days. You don’t want to scare him away, and he seems the sort to be easily skittish._

He placed the phone on his side table, brought the wine to his lips and took a large gulp. He usually preferred to sip his wine, enjoying all the wonderful flavors on his tongue, but tonight his nerves were a bit of a mess. He laid his head back and closed his eyes when he began to feel the rush of warmth from the sweet alcohol.

Yes, tonight he would just read his book and go to sleep. He determined that he would be able to make much better sense of this in the morning.

..............................................................................................................................................

Three blasted days had gone by and Crowley still hadn't heard from Zira and he was desperately lying to himself when he thought it wasn't driving him mad.

Had he done or said something to make him loose interest?

Crowley silently punished himself as he watered the aloe plant siting in his windowsill. He didn’t have the space to have more than the one small plant, so it didn’t take him very long, but he was grateful for the distraction.

_Stupid. Good for nothing. Unforgivable._ All words that bustled around his tightly wound brain.

So, Crowley did what he always did when confronted with unwanted emotions, and distracted himself even more.

He picked a few extra shifts at the pub which helped divert his mind for a bit, although it was hard now to watch the couples in the bar tenderly kiss, brush their hands against one another, without him wanting to literally screech at them. He was never a particularly friendly bartender but his boss thought that it was part of his charm.

As much as he tried to loose himself in his work, no matter what he did, all he could see was that gorgeous smile, and soft feathery curls that he wanted to run his fingers through.

He thought about looking Zira up and possibly finding the bookshop on his own, but then realized that was _insane_ , and sort of stalkery, which was certainly not his m.o.

When Crowley wasn't working he spent his time alone, despite the complaints of his sort-of sister who tried desperately to drag Crowley out of his funk. Sometimes her efforts worked but in this case, Crowley just wanted to be by himself wrapped up in his thoughts. He had been writing and sketching a great deal, cooped up in his small room, but when his nerves inevitably became too much of a jangled mess he'd go for a walk.

Crowley had gone to St. James Park every night for the last three nights. He unconsciously arrived around the same time he had ran into Zira and told himself that it was just because he liked the sunset. He found himself beginning to have a whole new appreciation for the color of the afternoon sky.

_Blue like his eyes_. _Soft and_ _pink like his skin._

Crowley was beginning to creep himself out with his obsessive thoughts and he couldn’t understand how one interaction with a complete stranger had undone him so completely.

He sat down on his bench and pulled out the notebook from his pocket. He began to sketch a face again, but this time, there was a whole lot more detail.

He was lost in thought for a few minutes, concentrating on his work, when he felt his mobile buzz loudly in his pocket. His heart immediately leapt in his chest, and his tongue curled in his mouth.

Not a lot of people had Crowley's number. Sure, his sister did, but she hardly ever texted him. She claimed he was terrible at communication because he kept getting angry at her over “mis-reading her texts”, although in his opinion, she always seemed a bit passive aggressive. His boss Fred had his number of course, but he rarely ever had a need to reach Crowley, and if he did it was usually to pick up a shift so he would also just call.

Crowley tried to quickly snatch the phone from his pocket, a maneuver that almost always never worked the way he wanted. He huffed in frustration and pulled a couple of times to get the damn thing free of his skin tight jeans. Once he got it out he immediately glanced at the screen. 

There was a new message from a number not in his contacts.

Crowley did _not_ ever shriek. He did not ever, under _any_ circumstances show moments of joy, preferring the comfort of stoicism, but in this moment, a soft "Eeep" noise chirped from his lips. He made a mental note to never do THAT again. He, would of course, forget.

He tapped the phone aggressively and hurriedly opened the message.

44 20 7123 1234: **Good afternoon Mr. Crowley. I hope you are well! This is Zira, from the park. I'm so terribly sorry it took me this long to get to you. I have been rather lost in the land of books!"**

Crowley giggled. He fucking GIGGLED.

_Calm down you bloody basted. Keep it cool._

Me: **Exactly how long it take you to text that on your dinosaur phone?**

Minutes passed, feeling endless, and Crowley grew anxious by the second as he just sat there holding his phone. Then he remembered what he had literally just asked, and realized that Zira was most likely using his T9 to type out a lengthy letter. He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the thought and sighed. He rested his back against the bench and ran his hand through his hair, trying to relax. He couldn't believe how much of a mess all of this was making him.

His breathing had finally steadied and his heart rate began returning to its normal rhythm when another buzz came through, vibrating in his hand, causing Crowley to jolt, nearly leaping off the bench.

44 20 7123 1234: **Well aren’t you quite humorous? I'll have you know that I am quite proficient with these things.**

Crowley read it over rapidly when another buzz began.

44 20 7123 1234: **Were you still wanting to stop by the bookshop? If you don't already have plans for the night I would love to show you some of my collection and I have quite a nice bottle of wine I thought we could share.**

Crowley stared at the screen for what must have been five minutes, the panic returning in full force.

_He wants to SEE me. RIGHT NOW?_

After three days of waiting not so patiently, Crowley felt like his head might explode. This is exactly what he had wanted. He had wanted nothing _but_ this for the past three bloody days, but now that it was a very real possibility, Crowley felt very close to falling apart. He imagined turning into a puddle of goo once more, melted on the spot.

Crowley was not used to this. Over time, he had become an expert at controlling his emotions, or at least controlling them enough so that no one noticed. He loved the fact that he was unreadable. He had of course been with many guys but never anything serious. He mostly appreciated the physicality of such relationships and had always been in control of himself at all times. He feared that Zira, with all his love of knowledge and literature, was very quickly turning Crowley into a blasted open book. Zira made him feel absolutely not in control, and he hadn’t quite figured out how to handle that. Whenever anything threatened his grip on his emotions he usually just walked away. He knew without a doubt he was already in too deep, too fast, and that his run-and-hide method would have no way of working in this case. 

Crowley took a few more deep breaths before texting his response.

**Sure ang** \- he shook his head and deleted the sentence, starting again. _That_ was getting fucking annoying and he wondered how long it would be before he actually slipped up and made a complete fool of himself. He took another deep breath, trying to sooth the static electricity running in his veins.

Me: **Sure. Sounds brilliant. Send the address?**

_Well here we go…_

He practically catapulted his lanky body off the bench and ran towards his car.

..............................................................................................................................................

Crowley arrived at the bookshop at exactly 8 p.m. He of course had swung by his flat first and put on his best black blazer. He actually wanted to look nice but told himself that it was just because it was a bit nippy out.

Luckily, he didn't actually live far from the bookshop so he decided to walk there, sparing himself the embarrassment of pulling up in his beat up little car. The walk would also give him some time to prepare himself; nerves were constantly bouncing around his bones.

_He invited you over. He wouldn't have invited you over if he didn't want to see you._

A constant battle played in his head, which is why he typically avoided situations such as this. For all of his swagger, Crowley ultimately was a big anxious mess and nothing had triggered his anxiety quite like Zira’s open and beautiful smile.

He crossed the street, waving to the stopped drivers in thanks, and arrived at the address Zira had given him. Crowley was impressed with the size and look of the building, assuming a man Zira’s age would just have a small little shop tucked in somewhere. He noticed the sign on the building: _A.Z. Fell and Co_. and found himself a bit impressed. He stood outside the door, took a deep breath, and smoothed his hands over the front of his blazer. Not because it actually needed to be smoothed, but mostly because he had forgotten what humans were supposed to do with their hands.

The closed sign was apparent on the door, so he gently knocked. Crowley waited not so patiently, shifting from one foot to the next, when he heard the sound of a lock being turned behind the door.

Zira appeared moments later, opening the door and greeting him with the biggest smile.

Crowley felt like he had just been punched in the gut.

"My good fellow, welcome! I'm so glad you could come," Zira exclaimed as he motioned for Crowley to enter.

Crowley nodded, “Yeah, good,” and stepped inside. He took in his surroundings which included tons of high wooden bookshelves partially filled, and the smell of tea, lavender, and dust in the air.

Zira was quickly by his side ushering him through the shop. He was no longer sporting his aged and fancy get-up he had been wearing in the park, but instead a warm brown cardigan over a light blue collared shirt. Of course, the tartan bow tie was where Crowley expected, which made his heart warm with an unexplainable feeling of fondness.

"Not quite a lot to see here yet, I'm afraid," Zira gestured to the bookshelves, “Still working on getting all of the inventory sorted. We can just go back to my office if you’d like; that's where I keep the real treasures, and of course the wine".

"Sure, sure." Crowley nodded his head as he began to follow Zira to the back of the bookshop. They stepped into the office and Crowley could see what Zira had meant, as there were literally books scattered everywhere. There was also a small wooden desk, of course stacked with even more books, an antique looking arm chair and well-worn couch.

Zira smiled and motioned towards the couch, "Please, my dear, have a seat and I'll go grab us some of that wine”.

_My dear? Well that's new_ , Crowley thought as he sat down, and spread himself out comfortably as he was accustomed to. He tried to wait patiently for Zira to get back, but of course felt anxious and well, also excited. This was all so very new to him and Crowley had never had a real friend before.

Zira was back soon enough and held out a glass of red wine for Crowley, which he gladly accepted, knowing he could use something to drink.

"Cheers," he said politely before taking a big gulp. Pomegranate flavor swirled over his taste buds and Crowley smiled in appreciation to the taste. Zira had apparently been watching for his reaction and smiled again, looking very pleased with himself.

"Cheers," Zira replied happily before also taking a rather big gulp. Crowley raised an eyebrow.

Huh, maybe he wasn't the only one who was nervous.

"I quite enjoyed our conversation the other day," Zira smiled at him again as he took a seat in the arm chair beside the sofa, both hands wrapped around his wine glass. “It’s not often I meet someone who is willing to converse with me about great works of literature.”

"Yup. It’s uh, nice to have someone to talk with," Crowley replied taking another big gulp of wine, frustrated with his staggered and awkward replies. Why couldn’t he be his usual smooth self? He had wooed loads of guys in the past, but for some reason Zira unnerved him to no end. The scariest part was that he didn’t find the feeling altogether unpleasant, but instead exhilarating.

"So Crowley, what other interests’ do you have? I'm always eager to talk about my reading, but I would love to hear about _your_ hobbies".

_Uh oh_ , Crowley thought. This was where he knew it would get tricky; the part where he would actually have to open up and talk beyond his short replies. He took another gulp, quickly finishing off his wine. He could already feel the effects loosening his tongue and he wasn't sure if this was a good thing, or a very, very bad one.

Zira also finished his glass and began to refill both his and Crowley’s.

_Is he trying to get me drunk?_ Crowley felt the anxiety lift slightly as felt himself amused by this hedonistic and eccentric man.

A small surge of confidence bloomed in his chest. "Eh, not much really. S’pose I read occasionally, but nowhere on the same level as you,” he motioned around towards the books to prove his point and continued, “Got a plant I take care of, but it’s a frustrating bugger. Always tryin’ to get droopy. Big fan of music and I like art. Draw on occasion"

"Oh, how lovely!" Zira beamed. "I would love to see some of your work sometime; that is if you would like to share it."

"Eh, not that good and not a lot of it to show,” Crowley ran his fingers across the rim of his glass nervously. He had never shown anyone his work. Not even his blasted nosey sister.

"Ah. That’s quite alright. I myself write on occasion, and I can assure you, I am never keen on letting others read it either.” He should have suspected that Crowley would not yet want to share something so intimate, and judging by Crowley’s body language, talking about it made him nervous.

Despite that, Zira, curious man that he was, couldn't stop himself from prying. He needed to know more about the mystery that was Crowley and he knew the wine was most likely making him braver than he would normally be.

"Well dear, tell me about yourself. I feel like I only talked about myself last time and I am quite interested in you" Zira blushed in embarrassment as the last of the sentence left his lips. He had _not_ meant to say it like that. "I only mean, you know, interested about your life," he stammered, feeling very flustered, cursing the wine that was making bubbles in his head. He twisted his fingers together so that they were almost knotted. Had Crowley noticed?

All Crowley had heard was the restatement of how Zira was _not_ interested in him, well like _that_ , and that he had felt the need to clarify. Crowley’s stomach felt like a whirl pool and he wasn’t sure how he should proceed. Zira appeared nervous, but why?

Zira noticed the brows furrow behind Crowley’s glasses and wondered if he had said something wrong. He truly had not meant to but Crowley had a way of making him extremely ruffled.

Crowley shook his nervous thoughts away, once again telling himself that he was being _completely_ bat-shit and reading too much into, well, everything.

"What would you like to know?" Crowley asked locking eyes with Zira as he took another swig of his wine.

Zira smiled, but glanced away nervously; seeming to look everywhere but at Crowley’s gaze. "Well, for instance, where did you grow up? Do you have family in the area? Oh you know, the usual getting to know someone details," Zira looked back at Crowley, his face turning more red than pink now.

_Probably from the wine_ , Crowley reasoned.

Here it was, the questions Crowley hated most in the world. Questions he usually responded with "None of your business" and "fuck off", but Crowley didn't want that this time, no matter how much it made a hot burning mess in his brain. He took another sip of his wine, and felt the liquid courage slide down the back of his throat.

"Not much to tell. Had a pair of shitty parents who pawned me off, got into the system, turned 18 and now I live with one of my former foster siblings. No big exciting story to tell, really."

Zira knew this was a delicate moment. This was the exact thing he was hoping to pull from Crowley and he knew now more than ever that his reaction to this was very important.

He continued to smile at Crowley, trying to radiate as much warmth as possible. “Well, our experiences in life make us who we are, and I dare say, you seem like a wonderful, nice young man despite your very trying trials. Someone you should be proud of. You’re the kind of man who helped me the other day, and I am very grateful for that. Someday you will absolutely have to come to dinner with me at my mothers. She would absolutely adore you, I'm sure of it," Zira refilled his wine and topped Crowley's off as well, trying to appear aloof to the revelation that was Crowley’s tragic life. They had already hit the end of the bottle and Zira did not seem to shy away from filling the glasses to the brim.

Crowley just sat there for a moment, mouth slightly agape, somewhat stunned at Zira’s response. He was expecting more of an _"Oh dear, how very awful. I am so very sorry. Would you like to talk about it?"_

But no, just a smile, too much praise, and an invitation to his mother’s house _. Did he just invite him to meet his mum?_?? Crowley swallowed the apple sized lump of air in his throat.

"Uh, yea, sure. Eh, Sounds nice," he replied finally, currently unable to say more.

Zira smiled pleased with himself. "Would you care to listen to some music? I’m not sure if I have anything you would want to listen to, but I have a rather large collection, "he asked cheerfully.

"Yeah, sure Zira. I could always listen to some tunes," Crowley replied looking up at Zira’s once again beaming face. _How in heaven does he do that?_ , Crowley thought to himself as a warm fuzzing feeling began to bloom in his stomach.

Zira got up excitedly, almost appearing to wiggle his way out of his chair, and Crowley’s gaze followed him as he moved across the room. Zira was literally the embodiment of adorableness, something that usually annoyed Crowley, but now he couldn't stop himself from being entranced by it.

Zira of course had an old school record player which led to Crowley rolling his eyes and laughing softly. This did not go unnoticed by Zira who quickly looked back at him with a playful, and somewhat pouty, expression.

"Do you have something to say dear boy?" he asked, eyebrows raised and Crowley couldn't help but laugh again, his trademark “hah!” coming out of his mouth. He felt his walls breaking, and his nerves subsiding.

"Just that of course you have a blasted record player to match your dinosaur phone." he teased, a smile on his lips.

Zira scoffed and rolled his eyes as he put on a record, pretending to be offended, but failing miserably at it. Slowly the sounds of Schubert filled the room and Crowley laughed out loud again.

Zira turned around, hands thrown up in the air. "What now? What have I done to deserve such mockery?" He was trying to act flustered by the taunting, but was obviously playing into the game Crowley was inventing of teasing him.

"You are just a very interesting bloke," Crowley replied laughing, eyebrows raised as he brought the wine up to his lips to drink again, eyes glued to Zira.

He could see Zira’s face blushing more than he had seen it thus far, which made Crowley _very_ happy that he wasn’t the only one feeling a bit flushed.

"Well I'm glad you think so dear," Zira replied, sticking his nose in the air jokingly as he feigned pride, walking back over to his seat. "Now I think the reason I invited you here was to look at some of my collection. Were you still interested?" Zira asked a bit nervously.

Crowley nodded. "Yup. Let's see what other interesting things you have," Crowley sat up on the couch and took another sip of wine. Zira watched as the glass touched Crowley's lips. He was currently wishing he was the glass.

"Jolly good" exclaimed Zira, snapping himself out of his thoughts, trying to hide the embarrassment he was currently feeling by taking another swig of his wine. Crowley watched him and gave him the goofiest smile he'd ever seen in his life, which almost melted Zira’s heart.

Zira redirected his attention away from him and went to his desk. He opened up the top drawer and pulled out a pair of white gloves which he proceeded to slip onto his hands. He hunched down and opened a cabinet underneath, pulling out a few books carefully and laying them on top of the desk before motioning for Crowley to come over.

Crowley snapped out of his trance that had been triggered by Zira’s beautiful bent over bottom, and left the sofa, walking up to the desk beside him. They began staring at the obviously very old books books in front of them.

Although they looked extremely ancient, they were obviously very well preserved and taken care of. One of the titles was _A Portrait of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde_ , which Crowley immediately recognized, and another was a book titled _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnus Nutter, Witch._ Crowley read the title and immediately had a flash.

The flash was of fire, hot tears, and burning pages. It was over quick and Crowley braced himself on the desk for a moment before being jolted back to reality.

"Are you quite alright dear?" Zira asked placing a hand on Crowley’s back and looking at him with a deep concern.

It took a second for Crowley to recognize that Zira’s hand was touching him, and a feeling of panic and lust shot straight through him. Crowley turned to look at him, nodded his head, trying desperately to quickly shut down all of the things he was currently feeling. "Yup. Fine. Just the wine." he replied, waving a hand to dismiss Zira’s concern.

Zira smiled as he let his hand drop from Crowley’s back, and Crowley instantly felt the loss of the touch.

Zira was still looking at him though, a frown reaching the edges of his mouth. "Well you can't quite possibly see the books with these spectacles on your face" he grumbled, as he reached up to Crowley's face.

Crowley wasn't quite sure what was happening as all he saw was Zira's hands reaching out to touch him again, which instantly made all his thoughts incoherent. It wasn't until Zira’s hands landed on his glasses that he brought one hand up to catch Zira's before he could pull them away.

Zira froze and so did Crowley, his hand still holding on. Crowley felt the soft hand covered beneath the white glove, causing his heart to leap in his chest and for his skin to grow warm. Their fingers were grazing one another and it felt as if electrical currents were surging through his body. He looked at Zira's face who was looking right back, lips slightly parted, and noticed that Zira’s breathing had become a little staggered. Crowley could have sworn he had glanced at his lips.

Zira was the one who broke the moment, quickly removing his hand.

"Oh dear, I'm so very sorry. I forget myself sometimes. It's just..." he paused for a moment, feeling anxious, but the wine had made his speech more fluid. "It's just, I feel strangely comfortable with you. It's as if I already know you as a dear friend. I'm afraid I quite forgot my place; I apologize sincerely, it won't happen again" His hands began fumbling with the bottom of his coat pocket before he turned back towards the books.

Crowley immediately felt guilty, and the idea of causing Zira hurt rattled his bones. "S’alright. No harm done. I'm just not used to, erm, being close with people. But I uh..”, Crowley nervously scratched at his head before continuing, “I feel the same. Like we're friends, yeah?"

Crowley reached up to his face pulling off the sunglasses before placing them in his pocket. "I _would_ like to see the blasted books, so you’re right, better without em" He kept his eyes placed on the books in front of them and noticed that Zira glanced to the side at him. He seemed to relax from his words, and Crowley thanked the heavens that he had navigated that properly.

"Well that's nice to hear dear fellow," Zira smiled, but didn't push any further. He put his attention back on the books as he began to chat excitedly about them, opening a few pages of the Wilde. He glanced a few times at the side of Crowley’s face. He desperately wanted to see Crowley’s eyes.

Zira made himself refocus, and began to talk excitedly about his collection, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand.

"The most extraordinary part of all of this is that these books were just here in the shop when I purchased it! They were stashed in some cupboard. I could not believe my luck. This here is a first edition print of _A Portrait of Dorian Gray_ and this other is another first edition of _Gulliver’s Travels_. It really is quite remarkable! I could make a lot of money selling them, but I just don't think I could stand to part with them. It's almost a like a sign, is it not?" Zira looked up to Crowley expectantly who finally looked back.

Then he saw the most stunning pair of eyes he had ever seen. They weren't quite brown, but more of a golden color with brown flecks. They sent a shiver down his spine in the most pleasant way. _Why does he hide such beauty?_ , Zira thought.

"Some luck you’ve got there. Beautiful copies to," Crowley replied seeing a flash of pride on Zira's face. "What this one here? Don't think I've ever heard of that,” Crowley pointed to the book that had caused his earlier flash, a little scared to find out what exactly it was.

"Well that's where this gets even more extraordinary. That my friend is a book of prophecy that should not even exist. All the copies were supposedly destroyed by the publisher, and somehow I got the very last one in existence! It's said this book is supposed to be full of entirely accurate prophecies of things to come." He excitedly flipped to one of the pages in the book.

Crowley examined it closely and glanced at one of the prophecies written on the pages and began to read it out loud.

"When all is fated and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enough ye will be playing with fire". Crowley felt immediately tense, the words making his stomach feel queasy.

He glanced over at Zira who for all his blushes from the night, looked a little pale.

"Well that one's a bit strange isn't it?" Zira asked rhetorically with a smile that did not have a lot of heart behind it. _Huh_ , Crowley thought, _that’s interesting_.

Zira flipped the pages again, closed his eyes, and randomly pointed on a page.

Crowley chuckled and Zira looked at him and shrugged his shoulders "It's much more fun this way".

Zira looked down where his finger had landed and began reading the prophecy, “The angel should not be afraid of the stirring in his belly, ye devil has come to free thee from thy prison"

Zira laughed out loud then. "Oh, these prophecy books are always like this. So ominous and foreboding" He shook his head still laughing.

Crowley however, was not laughing. _There was that blasted word again. Angel..._

Crowley was _not_ religious, and he was not really superstitious, but he knew there were things in the world that he could not explain. His flashes for one, but he decided to just smile and brush the feeling in his gut off, not wanting Zira to think him stranger than he already did.

"Well s’a great start for the shop, right? Couldn't ask for a better welcoming mat with these blasted books" Crowley remarked looking back over at Zira.

Zira stared back smiling. “You’re quite right dear. I am very fortunate indeed.”

He began gathering the books to place them carefully back in their cabinet, and removed his gloves. Crowley was trying to not be mesmerized by the gloves sliding off his beautiful hands.

_Ugh, this is soooo not good_ , Crowley thought before forcing himself to look away and to head back to his spot on the sofa.

"Would you like some more wine?” Zira asked.

"Sounds tempting," Crowley said has he lifted his eyebrows and sported a devious smile. It made Zira's heart pound sharply against his chest.

They spent the next few hours chatting about a little bit of everything, and of course teasing and joking with one another like two people who had been friends for ages. Crowley had never felt so comfortable with someone in his entire life, and Zira had never been so captivated.

Eventually, Crowley looked down at his watch and saw it was getting close to midnight.

"Well, it's time I was off" Crowley said. For a brief moment, the drunken Zira actually pouted which made Crowley's heart feel like it would break. Zira caught himself and his smile returned as he stood from his seat.

"Ah, yes, I suppose it has gotten quite late. Are you alright to get home?" Zira asked.

Crowley also stood. "Yeah, m’fine. Actually live right down the road."

"Jolly good." Zira began walking with Crowley to the door.

"Well, my dear, I do so hope we can do this again soon." Zira said as they arrived to the door. They stood facing each other, closer than they had yet to, and their eyes locked. Zira felt a shock all the way from head to toe as he stared up at Crowley's beautiful eyes.

"Um, maybe we can do spot of lunch tomorrow? I mean, if you'd like?” Crowley paused for a moment before adding, “Anywhere you wanna go" He proceeded to feel a jolt at his last words; like an itch under the skin, and ultimately some deep rooted fear,

_Am I going too fast?_

Zira simply beamed at him. "Yes, that would be lovely. Say around noon?"

"Ngk, yup" Crowley responded as he opened the door. "I'll come by then."

"Splendid" Zira replied as he began to stand on tip-toe. Then, the most important thing that had ever happened to Crowley happened. Zira kissed his cheek. The moment was so quick, too quick in Crowley's opinion, but Zira was so close that he could smell his beautiful feathery curls. They smelled like lavender, and they looked like angel wings.

Crowley felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

Zira must have seen him completely falling apart as he smiled and giggled a bit at him.

"Right. Yup. Good.. Tomorrow" Crowley said quickly as he rushed out the door.

He had quite a lot to think about on his walk back home.


	4. Reflections

Zira watched Crowley through the blinds of a window as he strolled down the street. It looked like he had a smile on his face which made Zira feel flushed and giddy. He also noted that Crowley’s strange little swaying walk was a little bit more loose than he had seen it yet; which seemed impossible that his hips could even sway in such a way. The saunter made him admire Crowley even more.

He sighed deeply. _How strange this had all been_ , he thought. Why did he feel this way about a man he had only just met? And even stranger, why did it feel like they had known each other for a very, very long time? Never in his life had he experienced such a connection with another person, and it left him feeling a little breathless, and definitely confused.

He shook his head and stepped away from the window, making his way back to his office so he could sit and contemplate the interaction from his comfy chair with another glass of wine. He sat down, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, playing the events of the night back in his head. Crowley’s hand on his; finally looking into those gorgeous golden eyes.

He thought about Crowley's trim and lanky form draped lazily on his couch. He opened his eyes to glance over where Crowley had been sitting only moments ago.

Oh, how he wanted to close the distance between them, make his way over to the couch and wrap himself in those long slender legs, brush his lips against Crowley’s beautiful pouty mouth. A lust he never knew existed was consuming his every thought.

Zira felt a warmth blooming in his chest, and then it began to move even lower. _Oh how absolutely tempting he is_ , he thought closing his eyes again.

He had of course been with other men before, but not many and not for very long. He had always needed a strong connection with those he chose to be intimate with, but found that the connections never lasted long and were never actually that strong. It wasn’t even that he necessarily needed their interests to align with his own, but it was more that he couldn’t quite obtain the chemistry he had always been desperately searching for.

This was different, he knew. Crowley’s personality was the complete opposite of his own, yet the dynamic between them was as natural as it could be. There was no denying the electric chemistry between them. He had never felt a burn quite like this one, and Zira, being a rational man, was very concerned. Just over the course of a few months his life had completely changed with remarkable luck. It felt as if every day he was being blessed with a new miracle.

Crowley was certainly starting to feel like one, and so quickly he had made his way deep into his mind. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Sure, Crowley seemed to enjoy his company, but he also seemed very anxious and reserved. Maybe he did not enjoy being around Zira in the same way Zira enjoyed being around him. Crowley was absolutely beautiful, and most likely very experienced as well; not to mention he was also a few years younger than himself. He had a hard time believing that Crowley would look at him that way. Given his history, he was most likely just very lonely. He had even told Zira that he wasn’t used to being close to people. Maybe the lad really just needed a friend. Zira began to feel a pang of guilt; it was wrong of him to yearn after Crowley like this, especially without proof that he felt the same way. It was all too new anyhow, and he knew he needed to slow himself down, which was the main reason he had restrained himself and waited a few days to even reach out. He was not used to having to do such a thing, usually creeping through his decisions like a snail (which his mother often scolded him for), but there was just something about Crowley that was bringing this out in him.

He sighed then, ignoring the throbbing that had begun in his trousers. _No_ , he thought, _it's best to take this slow. Your over the top infatuation towards him could scare him away._ The very thought made Zira's heart sink. No, he did not want to lose this now that he had it. Even if, ultimately, he could be nothing more to Crowley than a friend.

Snapping out of his lust and guilt, he then remembered the strange moment earlier with the prophecy book and how it's words and shaken him to his core. _Choose ye faces wisely_....the words ran through his head and he immediately thought about his dream; _the transforming faces…_

 _Your reading too much into this_ , he thought, _as mum says, it’s ineffable._ _Best not to speculate._

Zira's finished off his wine before turning off the lights and heading to bed in the loft above the shop.

Try as he might, his dreams still swam with visions of his hands in red hair, and beautiful glowing eyes.

They eventually transformed into more dreams of his face changing into another’s....

............................................................................................................................................

_“How long have we've been friends? 6000 years.”_

_“Friends, we're not friends, I don't even like you”_

_"You dooo!!"_

Crowley wrestled in his sleep, tossing and turning as words filled his mind. The covers had become a tangled mess all around him and a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead.

_"Angel. Look I'm sorry, whatever I said. Work with me here, I'm apologizing, yes? Good? Get in the car."_

He jolted from his sleep abruptly, sitting straight up, eyes open wide.

He knew he had been dreaming, but he couldn't quite recall about what, but he definitely knew Zira had been there. He also knew he had called him angel more than a few times.

_The angel should not be afraid of the stirring in his belly, ye devil has come to free thee from thy prison_

The prophecy from the previous night rung in his brain. Quickly he grabbed his journal from the side of his bed and wrote it down.

 _What in heaven?_ He thought. _What the hell is going on with me?_

He felt slightly nauseous and his brain had begun pounding against his skull, sending waves of pain through his temples and teeth. He blamed it on the wine from the previous night, but also knew that it could potentially be stressed related. He always got the worst headaches when his nerves took hold of him, which happened more often then he liked to admit. Crowley rubbed his eyes, then his temples, and thanked the heavens, or whatever, that he had the day off, especially because of his planned date with Zira.

_Oh, god…I planned a date….with ZIRA! IS that what it IS?_

A flood of panic rushed over him, which seemed to motivate the little troll with the hammer in his brain even more.

“Ugggggghhhhh”, he groaned, running his fingers through his now wild red hair. It always seemed to have a mind of its own in the mornings.

Crowley’s thoughts began to race. Zira did seem like he was somewhat romantically interested to some extent. He appeared to have no aversion to casually flirting, but Crowley just couldn’t decide whether it was just his personality, or if he could actually want someone like himself.

 _A deadbeat_ , he thought. _Darkness to blemish Zira’s light._

He sighed heavily, trying to push the negative thoughts away. He hated that he was so damn negative all the time, and then hated the fact that he hated it in the first place. There really was no winning with himself.

 _He probably just wants to be friends and you are reading way too much into this_ , _stupid sod._

No one had ever managed to get under Crowley’s skin like this and the feeling was uncomfortable and hard for him to navigate in his mind. All of his previous romantic interests had seemed to only be interested in the physical parts of the relationship, but Crowley had never really given them a reason to want more. Usually they ended because, in the end, Crowley just did not give a fuck. Turns out, people want relationships (if you could even call what he had with others that in Crowley’s case) where the other person actively contributes and shows affection. Crowley did not participate in such things; they were never interesting enough for him to care.

But he cared now. He absolutely, a hundred times over really fucking cared, and it was driving him crazy. He cared what Zira thought of him, and this was entirely new. Crowley had never gave a fuck what anyone thought of him.

He pulled himself from his bed and thought a shower would help clear his thoughts.

It didn't.

He paced back in forth in front of the bathroom mirror for what felt like an eternity, simply trying to decide what to wear for his lunch with Zira. He usually only wore black; it made him feel sexy and powerful and it also tended to help with keeping people away from him. Today though, for the first time in probably forever, he was contemplating wearing a dark blue collared shirt with his black jacket. He tried it on, decided it looked good, maybe even a little friendlier, but he then of course quickly changed back to his standard black tee, appraising himself once again. He stared at himself for a few minutes, tossing his hair with his fingers to get it just right, before inevitably changing back into the blue shirt .The skinny black jeans were obviously non-negotiable. He of course knew what his ass looked good in. No sense in changing a good thing.

"Urggghhh" he screeched loudly, pulling at the, oh so carefully styled, short red hair.

_Great. Now I have to fix THAT again._

He was literally becoming a walking disaster.

He heard soft footsteps approaching the slightly parted bathroom door and then a knock. Of course it was his sister coming to check on him like she usually does when he has obvious melt downs. He always tries to find it annoying, but secretly appreciates the support.

"Crowley, you okay?" a female voice asked softly through the door. Anathema, his ever caring, and slightly nosy former foster sibling and current roommate.

Crowley sighed placing his hands on the counter and stared at the floor in defeat.

"Nghkkk...I don't know. I guess I could use some help. Just come in." Crowley replied, slightly annoyed at needing to ask for anything.

Anathema knew this process well though, and had learned how to navigate the complicated (sort-of) brother she had come to love. They had lived together with a family (one who liked the bonus checks they got for each child’s head in their house) in the last of their teenage years and had been together ever since. He acted as if they're sticking together was merely for convenience sake, but she knew Crowley loved her in his own way, even if he never said it, and of course she loved him. They had managed to make their own make-shift family out of what they were given; something both of them were grateful for.

She pushed the door open to find Crowley an anxious mess. She smiled softly, wondering what in the world had managed to make her cold, distant brother break his “I’m so cool and I have swagger” facade. She had an inkling that she already knew. It wasn’t just because of her naturally intuitive gifts that were sometimes scary, but because she knew her brother very well, although she couldn’t recall ever seeing him quite this distressed.

"Do you have a date?" she asked trying to hide her amusement, but failing as a few giggles passed her lips. She moved a hand up to her mouth to muffle the sounds.

Crowley bolted straight up and turned around to give her a death stare, which didn’t faze her in the least.

"It's not a blasted date!" Crowley practically yelled and faced back towards the mirror, shaking his head and grinding his teeth. He breathed deeply a few times to calm himself.

"S’ just uh, well, s’ lunch with a friend." his gaze dropped to the ground, trying to hide the emotions that were probably showing all over his face.

Anathema smiled warmly again as she brushed a strand of her long black hair from her face. She narrowed her eyes behind large glasses, trying her very best to look suspicious and make sure Crowley knew she was taunting him, "Uh huh." she teased, "And this lunch with just a _friend_ has you all stressed out? Who is it anyway? You never go out with anyone unless it benefits you somehow, and you certainly don’t go out with friends. You refuse to even acknowledge that you actually even _enjoy_ anyone’s company."

He looked back up at her reflection in the mirror to see the amusement on her face. He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Can you just stop with the bloody prodding, yeah? Always so blasted nosey, you are. I just want…I need to…ngk. Can you just tell me if this looks alright?" he motioned towards his outfit with both hands, a genuine look of despair in his large golden eyes.

She just continued to smile, ignoring his ill-tempered ways, and looked him over quickly. She cocked her head to the side observing him before she held up both hands motioning for him to wait.

"One sec, I'll be right back," She rushed out of the bathroom.

Crowley rolled his eyes again and turned back to look at his face the mirror, groaning again at his reflection. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he was attractive. Based off of past experiences and the glances he got from strangers, he knew that he was easy on the eyes. Despite that, in this moment, he couldn’t help but agonize over every detail. He was so skinny, all hard lines and edges, while Zira was soft, bright; the very epitome of warmth. He didn’t want Zira to think he was too sharp; sharp enough to cut.

 _Get it together you ass_ , he thought. He had never felt more embarrassed in his life.

Anathema returned quickly, caring a small grey scarf in her hands.

"Here, this should do the trick. Put this on." She handed over the scarf and Crowley took it, draping it around his neck. He looked himself over again before grabbing his glasses off the counter and slipping them onto his face.

Anathema crossed her arms and smiled, looking very pleased with herself. “There, that really completes the look. Make’s you look less scary,” she help up her hands, spookily wigging her fingers.

Crowley gave her another death stare, but without as much menace behind it. "S’ the blue okay? I don't normally wear--" he began but Anathema cut him off.

"The blue is great," she replied as she patted him on the back with one hand, trying to sooth his nerves. “Trust me, I know these things.”

Crowley glared at her over the glasses, but didn’t recoil from her touch. He was used to Anathema comforting him every now and then. As much as he pretended not to need it, it always did help. He nodded, and gave her a slight smirk.

"Okay, okay. It’ll do, thanks,” he said before glancing down at this watch. He was running behind if he wanted to get to the bookshop on time.

Crowley looked flustered again before moving past Anathema and through the bathroom door. "Better get a wiggle on" he shouted to her, before rushing out.

Anathema’s face contorted in complete confusion. She stood there, glued to the spot with her mouth partially agape. She could not believe what she had just heard come out of Crowley's mouth.

"Who the hell is this man???" she yelled to Crowley after a few seconds of digesting her brother’s strange behavior.

"Gotta go!" Crowley yelled back, and she heard the front door shut.

Anathema shook her head as she laughed to herself with one word floating around in her mind. Finally.


	5. Getting to Know You

Crowley drove to the bookshop in his beat up black Volvo through the busy city streets of London. He truly hated the machine and all the embarrassing tid-bits that came along with it. The previous owner had completely wrecked the inside having torn the beige fabric on the seats. Plus it had a tendency to squeal loudly on occasion when he accelerated. Sadly, it was all he could afford for the moment, and ultimately, he was just grateful to have a car at all. He did love driving and the freedom that accompanied it. There wasn’t anything quite like the feeling of cruising on the street, windows rolled down, and the sounds of Freddy Mercury filling his ears. He loved it so much that sometimes he day dreamed about owning his dream car: a 1920’s style, shiny black Bentley. He had seen one in a movie once and had a flash occur at the sight. He had drawn the beautiful machine in his journal and determined that the flash was some kind of sign from the fates and that he was destined to own such a beautiful car. As of now, it seemed like a pipe dream, but one could hope. 

As much as driving tended to sooth Crowley, today he was having to focus much more than usual due to the buzzing of nervousness going on his brain. His hands were wrapped way too tightly around the steering wheel and his eyebrows had started to tie into knots. Why did he get like this every time he was going to see Zira? In his defense, this get-together was a little bit different, and more formal of a social call (right?), and he wasn't entirely sure what any of it meant. He recalled the events of the previous night; Zira on his tip toes placing a soft, feathery like kiss on his cheek. He felt his face grow warm with the memory and quickly told himself that he really needed to just go with the natural flow of things, and not take things too fast. This was something he was entirely bad at, especially now with Zira being the focus of his affections.

He was grateful for the quick drive because it meant less time for him to obsess over everything. He pulled up to the bookshop at around five till noon. He resisted the urge to park in a not-so-legal space, instead pulling into a metered parking spot. He turned off the ignition, and braced his head on the headrest, staring up at the ceiling of the car.

_Alright you bastard, you’ve got this. No more being a walking panic attack. Just play it cool, just be a good new friend._

He took a few deep breathes before stepping out of the car. Hopefully Zira wouldn't be too put off by the unattractive hunk of metal he had to drive around on a daily basis.

.............................................................................................................................................

Zira heard the car door slam and quickly jumped from his seat to grab his go to jacket off the rack. He had anxiously been awaiting Crowley's arrival from the moment he woke up earlier that morning, practically beaming with excitement. He had bustled around his loft, cleaning up (which was a bit unusual for him), and humming to himself. He was in, what he would call, a jolly good mood. His anxieties from the previous night had at least subsided with a good night’s rest, even if his dreams had been a little worrisome, and he had told himself he was simply excited to spend time with his new friend. His very, very handsome, sweet, clever new friend.

He hadn’t fretted too much over what he would wear for the day, as he tended to wear much the same thing consistently. Zira had never really been one for fashion, but he did like to appear dignified and intelligent. As long as his appearance conveyed those aspects of himself, he didn’t really put too much thought into what would make his tush look good. He had always been pretty sure of himself, even if he wasn’t entirely “in shape”, and figured he just wanted someone to like him just the way he was.

No, his appearance wasn’t much on the forefront of his mind today, but instead was hyper focused on the meaning of this lunch.

_Date? Yes or no? Friendly outing? Most likely,_ the questions zoomed around his brain like a hover fly.

The front door bell rang, and he quickly shuffled to open the door, greeting Crowley with another one of his radiant smiles.

"Hello dear fellow! Zira exclaimed, shining like a halo. “So great to see you again. Should we be off?" The non-existent light that seemed to constantly radiate off of Zira felt blinding to Crowley, but he also couldn't resist the urge of wanting to bask in it and soak it all up.

"Hey there Zira" he replied as he leaned in, arm resting on the door frame, and put on his cockiest smile. _The only way out is through_ , he thought to himself, and today, he was determined to turn off the bundle of nerves and to turn on his charm. "Ready when you are. Any particular place you have in mind?"

Zira smiled almost shyly, as he closed the door and braced against it, moving him closer to Crowley’s draped form. His face had turned pink, and he was obviously a bit taken aback by Crowley’s dashing smile; knowing that it was for him solely.

"Well, I, uh, do know of this wonderful little Greek place we could go to, if you like that sort of food," Zira replied, his hands twisting together. Crowley noticed and began to understand that this was something he did when he was nervous. _Adorable_ , he thought, as he continued smiling.

"Sounds great," Crowley replied, motioning for Zira to lead the way. He quickly made his way around Crowley, both feeling heat flood over them as they moved in such close proximity. Crowley ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath as he walked behind Zira to the car, and Zira continued to play with his hands as he looked straight ahead. Neither one was paying attention to the obvious nervousness of the other. They reached the car and Crowley moved quickly to open the door for him.

“Oh! Oh thank you,” Zira remarked as he stepped into the vehicle. Crowley closed the door behind him and got in. Zira made no remark on the state of his car, which he was very grateful for.

The ride to the restaurant started off with awkward silence as they drove, neither one quite knowing what they should do or say. Crowley focused intently on the road, gripping the steering wheel in a death clutch once again, while Zira sat quietly, looking out the window, shuffling his hands back in forth in his lap. Both of them were lost in their own thoughts; overthinking what they should say. It occurred to both of them that by doing this, they weren’t actually saying anything.

Zira kept stealing small glances at Crowley before he finally broke the quiet.

"I like the blue shirt by the way. It is quite a fetching color on you."

Crowley’s heart fluttered and he celebrated internally _, Thank you Anathema!,_ before he smiled, glancing over at Zira "Thanks. Like to change it up every now and again."

Zira smiled back before deciding to continue, this time bringing up something he was very nervous to bring up, but was dying to know.

"I see you've still got your staple sunglasses of course." He said, trying to sound a bit teasing and light-hearted.

"O’ course," Crowley replied still looking straight ahead at the road and not offering anything more.

Zira, unable to help himself, prodded once more, "Any particular reason why you’re so attached to them?" he asked gently, looking over at him for his response. The glasses made it incredibly hard to see what he was thinking.

Despite that, it was obvious this was a touchy subject as he seemed to frown in reply and somehow tightend his hands on the wheel even more. Zira cursed himself inside.

_Too much, too much!_ , Zira thought and wished immediately he could take the question back. _Now you’ve gone and done the very thing you told yourself not to do._

Zira did not fully know the very heavy weight that came along with his question. Crowley’s stomach churned and the panic set back in. _So much for keeping it cool, calm and collected_ , thought Crowley. How did Zira manage to completely undo him in a matter of minutes?

"Um, s’ complicated," Crowley kept his eyes glued to the road, not daring to look over at him, knowing he was staring at him in quiet anticipation. "Not something I like to talk about much"

"Ahh. I apologize dear boy. I did not realize," Zira replied, not wanting to push any further, as he looked back out his window. To his surprise, Crowley raised his eyebrows and began talking, still not looking over at him.

"When I was younger, my, uh, Dad. Used to get a bit rough." Crowley began, then took a deep breath. "One time he...my eyes…they were shut because of it for a long time. Right ugly sort they were. I had to wear glasses for a while because they were sensitive. S’pose it just became sort of a habit, and then, I kind of liked how uncomfortable it made people and…well, I guess I like that it makes me a bit hard to read." Crowley finished, enunciating the last of his sentence while still looking straight ahead, trying to calm himself. His anxiety was like a tidal wave in his stomach. He had never told anyone this, not even Anathema. He didn't dare look over to Zira; he couldn’t stand to see pity in his eyes.

Zira shifted his gaze from Crowley and let it drift to the floor board of the car. He couldn't believe Crowley had shared something so painfully intimate with him, and he felt a sudden wave a guilt for making him relive that kind of pain. He knew though that Crowley did not want his sympathy; that much he had been able to perceive, but he wanted to be able to give him what he _did_ want, or even what he _needed._ He just didn’t know exactly what that was in the moment, but swore to himself that he would figure it out.

He looked over at Crowley again, who was still looking at everything but Zira, the features on his face appearing to be set in stone.

"Thank you for sharing that with me Crowley. I know that couldn’t have possibly been a comfortable thing to share."

Crowley simply nodded, obviously not wanting to discuss it further, and Zira decided to lighten the mood, hoping he could still salvage the day.

"Well, you do look quite dashing in them and they _do_ tend to give you an air of mystery" He said with a smirk, looking straight at the road. Finally, _that_ had gotten Crowley to look over at him, his eyebrows raised almost to the roof of the car, before a small smirk creeped on his face. It lasted for a few seconds, before Crowley realized he should be looking at the road.

They eventually made it to their destination and Crowley parked the car.

Once inside they were greeted by a friendly host who showed them to a table near the back. Crowley sank into his chair, sprawling himself out, naturally, while opposite him, Zira sat with impeccable posture and carefully laid his napkin on his lap.

"So, my dear,” Zira began, intentionally changing his phrasing to be a bit more intimate, “tell me, have you ever done any traveling?" Zira waited for a blush to appear on Crowley’s face after hearing the new pet name, and it didn't take long for it to creep up on his beautiful cheeks. He took a few seconds to appreciate the angular structure of Crowley’s face; imagining tracing the lines of it with his fingers.

Crowley, on the other hand, was currently trying not to fall out of his chair in shock.

_My dear? Well perhaps that is a bit telling_ , he thought, trying to recompose himself. He leaned in closer over the table, resting his head in his propped up arm as he looked over at Zira. He decided then that it was time to get back in the game now that his nerves had subsided over the whole sunglasses business.

"Eh, not much. Explored parts of England some, but never had much time for more than that." Crowley responded, his other hand drumming his fingers on the table as he continued to look across at Zira. He was feeling a little embarrassed at his lack of worldliness as Zira seemed like the type to be much more cultured than Crowley.

"I know what you mean." Zira said, leaning in a bit closer as well. "I'm afraid I haven't done much myself. I've always wanted to stay close to my dear mother, and I also haven't really had the funds to get out more. Although, some day, I would absolutely love to. I have read about so many places, and yet I’m ashamed to say I haven’t been to any of them." He looked down at the table, seeming to be lost in thought.

“S’alright. You’ve got loads of time, yeah? We’re young.” Crowley replied softly, with the sweetest smile on his lips. He looked like he was beaming with adoration at Zira, which made Zira tingle, and he returned the smile with a very sweet one of his own.

Crowley felt like a puddle of goo again.

_Again with the goo. Can’t you come up with a better analogy than that?_ , Crowley thought.

Their host re-appeared then, breaking the moment, to take their orders. They were both a little disappointed for the interruption in their conversation (or heart-eyed staring contest), but they were here to actually eat, after all.

Crowley kept his order simple, while Zira, on the other hand, ordered a sampler meal with a little bit of everything.

Once the waiter had left with their orders, Crowley quickly picked up their conversation.

"So traveling… where would you like to go, if you could?" he asked, genuinely curious as to the places that filled Zira's day dreams. He envisioned himself diving inside of that big, beautiful brain of his, setting up shop, and learning every crevice and cavern filled with all of Zira’s innermost fantasies and dreams inside of it. _Slow down you big weirdo_ , he thought. _Constantly jumping ahead of yourself, you blasted fool._ He took a breath, still trying to appear relaxed, keeping his body stretched out languidly over his chair. He made sure to keep his devious, yet charming grin constantly glued to his face. If there was one thing Crowley knew how to do, it was how to look sexy.

Zira couldn't help but giggle softly to himself, thinking Crowley was a bit ridiculous. How did this man not possess the ability to sit straight on any type of furniture, and why in the world was he sporting that sexy, cocky grin all of a sudden? He also couldn't help but think that it was absolutely endearing, and, lord help him, also charming. That smile in itself made him feel a bit tingly all over, and Crowley’s sprawled out, long and lanky form, did even more than _that_.

_He’s flirting with me, isn’t he? This has to be flirting._ Zira bounced the question back and forth in his brain.

_Well, two can play at this game. No harm done if I’m wrong if it’s not too over the top, right?_

Zira wasn't by any means overly cocky, and he certainly did not turn on his own charm for just _anyone_ , but he knew however, that when he _did_ try that he could be a down right charming bastard himself. He quickly justified that a little casual flirting, flirting that could just be interrupted as over-friendliness, was a safe way to dip his toes in the water without the fear of drowning.

He quickly glued on his own dashing smile and leaned a little bit more over the table, removing his hands from his lap and placing them up on the wooden top.

"Well," he began, "I've always wanted to visit Rome. So much fascinating history there, and so many beautiful and historical things to see. It would be an absolute dream come true. I've always found it quite alluring." He answered, the last word practically coming out as a purr. "What about you dear?" Zira asked then, as he smoothly placed one of his hands gently on top of Crowley’s. "Where would you like to go if you could?"

He immediately noticed Crowley’s face turning the color of what must be a yummy, vintage rose’, and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. It seemed that Crowley’s own cockiness was beginning to come undone, and Zira found this unexplainably delightful and exciting.

Crowley could feel his heart hammering in his chest and was having a hard time forming coherent thoughts. His eyes went straight to Zira’s hand on his own as he felt an electrical shock surge through his hand, and it appeared Zira had felt it as well based off of his smug smile.

_WHAT the heaven is happening_ , Crowley thought, _Is he making a move? Is he just being overly friendly? Should I be talking by now? Should I be doing something? Anything other than sitting here like a bloody buffoon?_

Crowley, was in his measure, both saved and killed by the lunch bell. Their food had arrived and Zira removed his hand to make room for the plates the waiter was sitting down on the table. Crowley could feel his nerves starting to calm themselves at the absence of Zira's hand on top of his, but he also felt a strange want take over every fiber of his being as he watched the hand move further away from him. All he wanted was the incredible, overwhelming feeling back. He remembered how he had first felt when his fingers had grazed Zira's that first day in the park, and the shock that had set up shop in his very bones. He also remembered those beautiful soft lips grazing his cheeks the night before. He felt his face beginning to warm up again, which was becoming a very common occurrence when he was in Zira’s presence.

_Stop it! Get ahold of yourself. Calm the FUCK down,_ Crowley screamed at himself inside his head. Thank whatever that Zira seemed to now be captivated by just his food, giving him the chance to recover from the unexpected touch. Zira seemed to be a man who was full of surprises.

Zira, looking quite pleased with the spread before him and had already started to pick up his utensils to begin eating. After taking his first bite, and making an appreciative noise that about killed Crowley, he finally looked over to him as if waiting for a response.

Crowley was simply staring at him, enraptured, with his lips partially parted and his food untouched.

Zira cleared his throat, and finally asked, “Are you going to tell me where you’d like to travel?”

_FUCK, I forgot we were having a blasted conversation_ , Crowley thought, before gathering the pieces of his brain together so he could form some-what coherent sentences again.

"So, right, yeah, good…where I'd like to go," Crowley stammered, trying to hide how undone Zira had managed to make him with just a few simple gestures. He picked up his fork and began poking at his food, appetite long gone. Well, at least _that_ appetite. Watching Zira’s mouth wrap around his fork was stirring up a different kind of hunger.

"S’pose I’ve always been curious about Italy, Spain, loads of things to see there. Australia to. Lots of bloody cool snakes and other creepy crawlies. But, Rome, yeah, that would be cool."

Zira smiled as he chewed his food, obviously very content with the quality of both it and the conversation. He swallowed his bite and asked, "Are you a big reptile fan my dear? I don't imagine you have some pet serpents slithering around your flat?" Zira giggled at the mental image and thought to himself that Crowley was actually a bit snake like. He did have those gorgeous golden-brown eyes, swaying hips that seemed to almost mimic a slither, and an inability to sit or lay properly without looking like he was sprawled about and ready to bask under a heat lamp.

Crowley raised his eyebrows and pondered on the question for a bit before answering, "No, no pets. Though I s'pose I wouldn't mind one. But, yea, I guess I've always liked 'em. Or, actually, envied them more really. Sitting around all day, lazing in the sun, climbing anywhere they wanna go. Sounds like a good life"

"Ahh, I imagine that does sound quite nice. Although, those silly snakes were the original tempter you know. One must always keep an eye out for those wily serpents." Zira replied, obviously teasing before drawing his attention back to his food. "Oh, their food is always so scrumptious. Come, you must try a bite of this moussaka". Zira held up his fork slowly until it was right in front of Crowley, who appeared as if he was frozen in shock, making Zira giggle once more.

_Now he's FEEDING me? What an absolute brilliant bastard he his,_ Crowley thought to himself, trying desperately to regain his composure and quiet the burning that had currently taken over his entire body.

He snapped out of his thoughts quickly as he realized the urgency of his response; if he was not quick enough Zira could interpret it as a rejection, which is something he _very_ much did not want to happen. So even though he was currently having another panic attack, and had no urge to eat food of any kind, he quickly leaned over and took the bite off of Zira's fork. He made the mistake of locking eyes with him in the moment and saw that his eyes appeared a bit heavy and even looked a bit hazy. He appeared as if he was very much enjoying watching Crowley eat his food, which _did_ things to Crowley’s body that he just couldn’t explain.

Crowley, for once, was very correct in thinking this, because Zira was currently thinking about the soft, peached color lips that had wrapped themselves around his fork. Zira felt a shiver all the way down his spine, and a throb starting in his groin. He realized that he _very_ much wanted Crowley like he had never wanted anything, but was still unsure of how he was going to navigate any of it. This was certainly all uncharted territory; for both of them it seemed. He still latched onto the idea of trying to subtly flirt in a way that he could provide a reasonable explanation for in the event that Crowley was not interested, insuring that he could still keep his friendship. All he simply had to do was slightly nudge here and there and see if he got a response. It seemed like Crowley had been taken aback by his flirtations, but Zira couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad one. Though, currently, Crowley eating off his fork had to be a good sign right?

Crowley had also seemed a bit playful earlier, but wasn't making any obvious (or even subtle) moves to prove that he was in fact interested in him in that way. _How absolutely frustrating yet delightful this all is_ , thought Zira.

Once the eye contact had been made, Crowley quickly looked away unable to bear the intensity of what he was feeling. Zira flinched internally, taking his action as a semi-rejection. Not solid enough proof, but definitely earning a point in the "not interested" column. Currently both columns in one of Zira's mental files was at a tie.

They finished with desert before Zira noticed the time "Well my dear, I really should get back to the bookshop to reopen. I have been trying my best to establish consistent open hours"

"O’course." Crowley replied. "Wouldn't want to hinder the spread of knowledge and all that" he said teasingly with a grin.

Zira smiled back “No my dear; as I’m sure you know, knowledge is power."

They left the restaurant and began to head back to the bookshop. Crowley leaned in to turn his music on before realizing he had one of his mixed cd's in, something he hadn't really thought about before picking up Zira. To his utter embarrassment, _that_ song came on.

_Show me how you do that trick. The one that makes me scream she, she says...._

Crowley quickly went to change the song right as he saw Zira's face light up.

"Oh I have always adored this song" Zira beamed turning to look at Crowley right as he noticed his hand on the button to skip it. "Oh, I'm sorry dear. If you don't want to listen to this, that's quite alight."

Crowley shrugged, deciding to leave it on. "Eh, s'whatever" he replied. "S’ a good tune" He was surprised to hear that Zira liked the song; it just didn't seem his style, but stealing glances out of the side of his glasses he could see him staring out the window and softly singing along.

"You, lost and lonely. You, soft and lonely. You, just like heaven" Zira sang softly, and it sent a chill down Crowley's spine. Zira's voice was quite lovely; like an angel singing in a choir, and all of sudden the moment felt so intimate. Like two people completely content with one another. He couldn’t believe that something so nerve shattering could feel so natural all at the same time. It was so strange to Crowley how uncomfortable he could feel, and how on edge Zira could make him, but at the same time he had never felt more at home around another person. It was a jarring thought, but one he found himself surprisingly okay with.

A few minutes later they pulled up outside the bookshop. Zira, ever the host, asked Crowley in for a drink, and of course he obliged. They spent the afternoon drinking, talking, and acting ridiculous with one another as they had the night before, until the time came for Crowley to head to work.

Feeling a comfortable pattern beginning to set in, Crowley asked Zira to lunch the next day.


	6. Toeing the Line. Wait, what line?

The next few weeks were continuously blissful, both astonished at the change in themselves since the other had arrived. Crowley’s sketches became more detailed and more frequent. Zira found himself not wanting to put his nose in a book quite as much (he still read a great deal of course; he _does_ have standards), and found that he enjoyed going out and experiencing the world with Crowley.

They both remained diligent in staying ever so careful with the other, and to make sure to tip toe around the feelings they both were starting to develop. Both were hesitant to ever cross that line; dreadfully fearful of rejection and tarnishing what they had going.

So they continued on with hands casually placed over another hand in a moment of conversation, flirty smiles, and lots of raised eyebrows. To Crowley’s surprise, a fun witty banter had started to develop between them as their nerves began to rest around each other. He was absolutely delighted to rile Zira up, and Zira was all too happy to rise to the occasion. Everything was going swimmingly; except for the butterflies that swam and seemed to drown in both of their stomachs.

One afternoon after lunch, things began to take a different turn.

They pulled up to the bookshop and Crowley (badly) parked the car on the street. Zira had already reprimanded him so much on his driving skills that at this point he didn’t even bother to click his tongue at him knowingly.

After their lunches, Crowley would usually join him in the bookshops backroom, where he would drape himself along the couch that had started to have the indentation of his lanky form permanently pressed into it, but today Crowley had a shift to go to (to both their disappointment).

Zira turned a bit in his seat to face Crowley and smiled “Well dear, I as usual had an absolutely lovely time.”

Crowley could see a bit of sadness behind his eyes, and was sure it was reflected in his own. They were obviously not very good with having their routine disrupted.

 _Stupid blasted job_ , Crowley thought.

Crowley turned to face him as well, feeling like a pit of snakes were squirming in his stomach. How had he not realized how attached he had become?

"Yeah, me too Zira. I uh, enjoy us hanging out", he said looking away and out the window, trying to conceal his heartache.

"Would you, um, maybe, perhaps, like to stop by again tonight? I believe I have another bottle of red I could tempt you with" Zira asked.

Crowley looked back to him and noted that he was obviously trying to lighten the mood, but his pleading eyes betrayed him, mimicking those of the most adorable puppy on the entire planet.

The look hit him straight in the gut. With a face like that, Crowley wasn't sure he would ever be able to say no to Zira. Unfortunately, Crowley needed money, and Crowley also had a job.

"Ergg" Crowley groaned irritably, as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "I really want to, but the shift I’ve got is a late one."

"Ah. Well you can always stop by after. I mean, if you'd like?"

This surprised Crowley a bit. He had never been at Zira’s _that_ late so far, usually making an excuse to scamper away before things got too intense, but the thought of seeing Zira again, was as always, too tempting. Zira consumed his every thought when he wasn't with him, so he might as well save himself from a good round of pining for the night, and, really, how could he say no to a face like _that_?

Crowley nodded his head and smirked, "Yeah, sure. Sounds good. I'll stop by".

Zira smiled, wiggling a bit in the seat, which Crowley thought might be the cutest thig he had seen him do yet.

"Delightful,” Zira replied, “Perhaps you can bring some of your music this time? I actually do own a CD player. Maybe we can listen to some bebop?"

All at once a flash jolted Crowley. It had stopped happening as much over the past few weeks, usually just a small one here or there when Zira would say or do certain things, but this one he could hear and feel clear as day.

 _No one, at all, would say bebop_ , he heard his voice in his head.

 _Well that's a weird one_ , he thought. _Have to write that strange bit down later._

"Bebop?" Crowley asked feigning offense, but as usual the quirk of his lips gave him away. "What do you take me for Zira?

Zira laughed "Oh whatever. Just bring some things you like."

"You’ve got it, but just for the blasted record, no bebop will be played."

Zira laughed, filling Crowley up with joy. "Jolly good then. I'll see you tonight." He said, leaning over to give Crowley a small hug.

Crowley returned the embrace, mapping the feel of Zira’s body with his hands. They had done this several times now, but it always sent a shiver down his spine.

As Zira pulled away, Crowley, wrapped up in the moment, kissed him softly on the cheek, the way Zira had that first night together. This was something that had _not_ been done since, and Zira nearly turned crimson, a step up from his sky pink.

Zira smiled, obviously a bit flustered as he opened the door.

Unthinkingly, Crowley called out "Bye Angel"

The door slammed right at the end of Crowley's farewell, but Zira could have sworn he had just heard Crowley call him by a very intimate term of endearment.

He didn't dare glance back as he walked briskly to the bookshop, his mind firing on all cylinders. He was trying very hard to remember how to walk.

 _Did he just call me that? Am I imagining things? Perhaps he said something different,_ Zira thought to himself. Not to mention that Crowley had actually _kissed_ him on the cheek!! He felt so giddy and slightly nauseous all at once. He knew he seriously would need to decompress before seeing Crowley again. Maybe tonight would give him the opportunity to figure out exactly what he and Crowley were doing, and what it all meant.

Meanwhile, back in the car, Crowley was having a full blown panic attack and flipping the pages of his notebook frantically.

That pesky word had finally made its way out of his mouth. The word that seemed to pop into his mind every time he talked with Zira. He was always aware of it, and always so very careful to make sure it didn’t come out. But yet, in the moment, it came out as naturally as anything he ever said to Zira.

“Shitshitshitshitshit,” he growled aloud as he continued to flip through his notebook.

Finally, it landed on the page with the blasted prophecy.

_It all has to mean something_ , he thought. The flashes, the dreams, and the undeniable connection he had with Zira. But what? How can you try and solve a puzzle when so many of the pieces are nowhere to be found?

Crowley sighed and threw the notebook over to the passenger seat where Zira had just been sitting and wiggling, and his gaze lingered there. He sighed and shook his head as he rubbed his temples. He really needed to keep it together. If he didn't, Zira would think he was absolutely bat shit bonkers. It would push him away, and he would lose him. No, he wouldn’t allow that. Even if meant never figuring anything out, Zira had to stay in his life now that he was in it. Crowley knew that with absolutely certainty, and he had never felt that way about anything in life. Most things were fleeting to Crowley.

 _But not Zira, not his...not his angel_ , he thought, finally accepting the word. The cat was already out of the bag it seemed.

He realized he had been sitting in his car for a good five minutes and quickly started the engine and headed towards the pub. Now it was time for him to panic about the fact that Zira most likely interpreted his actions as a come on. "Urghhh, you blasted buffoon. You’ve probably already scared him off" he said out loud banging his fist on the steering wheel.

 _You can't go too fast,_ he thought. _Zira is way too good for you, you’ll probably just corrupt him, or worse break his heart. He probably doesn't even want you. Why would he want something so irreparably broken?_

"Ngggkkk. Shutupshutupshup" he practically yelled, fighting against his own inner monologue. He finally pulled up to the pub, knowing it was going to be a shitty few hours until his shift was over. He couldn’t even think about what he would be doing _after_ his shift was over because he was sure it would make his brain explode.

Work did seem to drag on even though Crowley was quite busy with it being a Friday night. Usually, he could lose himself in his work, but he also didn’t typically have something this exciting waiting for him after.

 _Something to come home to,_ he thought to himself as he handed off several beers to a group of extremely loud and annoying men who thought talking about their last shag was interesting.

Hell, he missed Zira…

There was no telling how many times he checked his watch, but finally midnight had struck and he snagged a bottle of whisky on his way out. He told his boss he’d pay him back, but the hefty older man had just laughed heartily and made a joke about Crowley having a "booty call". He simply rolled his eyes at the comment, but in his rush to get to the bookshop he did not clarify or explain.

Meanwhile, Zira sat reading and drinking a glass of the promised strong red wine. He already had several glasses earlier and was feeling a bit tipsy and quite excited. His nerves had been a jangled mess after lunch as his mind raced trying to figure out Crowley’s intentions. They continued to be so as the clock slowly ticked, as he anticipated his evening with Crowley. He assured himself it would be much better if he could just relax. He didn’t want Crowley to think that his actions earlier were not welcome.

Soon enough, there was a knock on the door and Zira felt a rush of excitement along with a new wave of nerves. He walked briskly to the door and opened it to find Crowley leaning against the frame with a bottle of whiskey in his hands and a box in the other.

"Welcome back my dear! Thank you for coming at such a late hour. I do hope I’m not disturbing your sleep routine," Zira exclaimed happily.

"'S' fine. Sleep when m’dead" Crowley smiled, stepping inside the bookshop. They made their way to the backroom where they had been now countless times before, but both of them were feeling a shift in their dynamic.

"Brought a few things. Didn’t want to show up empty handed." Crowley held out the bottle of whisky and a purple cardboard box.

"Oh how thoughtful of you." Zira smiled as he took the whiskey, sitting it down on the table, before grabbing the box. He peeked inside. "My goodness, macaroons! How on earth did you know?"

"S'not a big deal. We didn’t get to have desert earlier so I just picked 'em up on my break. Thought you might like em’" Crowley replied looking a little embarrassed and not looking Zira in the eye.

"Well that was very kind of you dear,” Zira replied trying not to swoon too much. “Here, let me go fetch some plates and glasses and we can share" Zira bustled into the kitchen while Crowley took his designated seat on the sofa.

Zira was back quickly and got to work filling their glasses and setting out plates with the macaroons. He handed Crowley his glass of whiskey and took a sip of his own.

Crowley studied Zira closely and noticed that he was already looking a bit flushed and seemed to have that big, beautiful smile permanently glued to his face.

"You seem extra cheery" Crowley remarked with a cocked grin before bringing his glass to his lips.

Zira sat down in his chair, not nearly as graceful as usual, and replied "I suppose you’re quite right. I must confess, I did indulge in a bit of wine earlier." Zira giggled a bit, feeling a little embarrassed and averted Crowley’s gaze. He picked up one of the macaroons, taking a bite to distract from his slight tipsiness. He wasn’t expecting the macaroons to be the best he had ever tasted and he let out a little sound of pleasure. “OH, my, these are absolutely delectable Crowley"

Crowley’s mind almost stopped working at hearing the noise Zira had just made, followed by the sound of his own name passing his lips directly after. Not to mention how stunningly beautiful he looked as he placed the macaroon over his perfectly pink lips. Crowley shivered.

_I hope this doesn’t awaken something in me_ , Crowley thought.

Zira was once again trying to hide his embarrassment but the flush on his face somehow managed to turn even redder.

Crowley cocked an eyebrow at Zira and smiled. "M' glad you like them. We'll have to pop by the bakery sometime. Loads of selection. "

Zira smiled, thankful that Crowley didn’t point out his moment of awkwardness.

"That would be lovely" he said, drinking down more of his whiskey, Crowley following suite.

"So you got started without me, eh?" Crowley asked teasingly. "Seems a bit like cheating"

"Well, you will simply just have to drink faster to catch up with me I suppose" Zira replied, giggling into his glass.

So Crowley did. It wasn’t long before both of them were completely plastered and having the time of their lives. The sounds of Freddie Mercury blasted from the speakers. Crowley had done as requested and brought some of his favorites along to play. He was currently laying on the floor, glass in hand, while Zira sat on the couch, legs outstretched and draping over Crowley’s own. Crowley was currently in the process of yelling about climate change, waving his hands around very animatedly. Zira watched him, entranced with the creature of passion, even if he was necessarily very coherent at the moment.

"S' like, no one even cares, yeah? Just going on about their lives, buying a bunch of useless shit just cause that’s what they been trained to do from birth. Meanwhile, oceans all,--what’s the word? S' black. All of it. All that oil, swishing, uh swishing round. Yeah?"

Zira nodded with a drunken smile, wrapped up in the world that was Crowley _. I could literally watch him lie here and talk like this forever,_ he thought. Then, an idea, good or not, popped into his head, to ask about the interaction from earlier. Liquid courage did wanders for Zira.

"Crowley" Zira blurted out, interrupting his rant. Crowley looked over to him, eyes wide and sunglasses long gone.

Zira continued as he twirled his glass round in his hands, avoiding the now intent gaze of Crowley’s magnificent eyes, watching the whiskey slosh from side to side, " Earlier today, when I got out of the car, as I was leaving, did you, um, by chance, call me by a certain, well what’s the term for it, uh, endearment?"

 _Uh oh_ , Crowley’s heart sank. Here it comes, the moment he had been dreading. He had been lying to himself all day by saying that Zira didn’t hear him, but now it was here. The moment of rejection, of Zira pushing him away. He needed to think quickly, which was hard with all the alcohol he had consumed and was still currently consuming. Luckily he had played this scenario out a few times earlier in the day and was hoping that his sorry excuse was enough to convince Zira.

It was Crowley’s turn to look away as he plopped his head back down on the floor and became exceedingly aware of Zira's socked feet resting on his legs. How had he not noticed _that_? _Blasted alcohol,_ the thought.

He stared up at the ceiling before muttering out his excuse, "Uh, yea, sure, if that’s what you call it. Just, your hair,” he waved a hand around his head trying to demonstrate, "All light, fluffy, like wings. Sort ‘a, you know, halo like. Dun ‘know, just, uh came out." He groaned internally at just how bad he was explaining himself. He felt like he could shatter from embarrassment. He hesitantly lifted his eyes to catch a glimpse of Zira, who was smiling at him, with what appeared to be a look of fondness.

"My dear, that’s quite nice. I didn’t realize, you um, thought that. It's alright if you wish to call me that, it’s actually quite sweet…” Zira continued to smile down at Crowley, no longer twirling his fingers around his glass.

 _How was Zira able to articulate his thoughts so well?_ , thought Crowley. He had just as much, if not more, to drink, and was obviously tipsy, but still in control of his speech.

Zira nudged Crowley’s legs with his feet, and said sweetly "Scooch over a bit dear."

Crowley’s eyes grew wide and his heart leapt, but he complied, sitting up so that his back was against the couch. Zira slid down and sat next to him.

He looked over to Crowley, indicating that he wanted Crowley to do the same.

"It’s so nice spending time with you Anthony." Zira said in almost a whisper, his eyes drifting to Crowley’s lips. "It’s so strange, you and I. We’ve only known each other for a short while, but it truly feels like I’ve known you forever."

Crowley’s heart was beating rapidly now. Could a human heart even beat this fast? His gaze drifted to Zira’s partially open mouth, remembering the pink macaroon. His mouth felt hot and wet, and like it needed to be on Zira’s or he was going to die.

"Yes, um, ngggk. I uh, know what you mean Angel"

Zira audibly gasped at hearing the nickname again, and smiled as he placed a hand on the side of Crowley’s face.

"I do so like the sound of that. It’s lovely, and it feels so familiar" Zira leaned in a little bit closer, their breath hot on each other’s faces.

Crowley found he couldn’t contain himself any longer and he closed the distance between them, diving in and catching Zira’s lips with his own. It was chaste, and only lasted about five seconds, but felt much longer to both of them.

If their hands grazing each other before had caused a spark, this kiss caused an explosion. Crowley could practically hear rockets launching and a buzzing in his brain. Zira was also quite lost in the moment. Never had he felt so connected to anyone in his life. Never had anyone made his body burn the way it was now.

They broke apart mainly from needing to gather themselves from the shock of the moment.

"Wow. Well that was, um---" Crowley began but Zira leaned forward again crashing his lips against Crowley’s more aggressive now. Zira opened his mouth against Crowley pushing his way in. Crowley appeared frozen for a moment, briefly panicking Zira. _Oh lord_ , he thought, _I’ve pushed too much,_ but a second after the thought entered his mind Crowley was meeting his kiss, wrapping his tongue around Zira’s and pushing his hands into his hair.

Zira moaned into Crowley’s mouth feeling his soft hands run through his “angel” hair. The sound shot through Crowley’s body right down to his groin. "Fuck angel," Crowley whispered breathlessly as their mouths broke away. Zira couldn’t believe how turned on he was hearing Crowley call him angel again, but was shocked to find he could be turned on even more as one of Crowley’s hands tightened in his hair. Crowley’s mouth moved down to kiss at his neck, his other hand wrapping itself around Zira’s waist. Zira groaned once more in appreciation as he tilted his neck back to allow Crowley better access, his own hands wrapping around Crowley’s neck and into his beautiful fiery locks.

In a matter of seconds Zira was lying on his back on the floor with Crowley in between his legs, kissing him frantically. Zira’s mind swirled with drink, and by the time Crowley was kissing his neck again, doubt started to plague his mind. _He’s drunk_ , he thought, _and he’s lonely. What if that’s the reason he’s doing this? If you do this now it could ruin everything. He might realize he’s too good for you, regret this, and then you’ll lose him forever._

Crowley was still very much caught in the moment, working the buttons on Zira’s ridiculous waist coat, but for Zira, the moment was broken.

"My dear,” Zira said placing both his hands on Crowley’s shoulders. Crowley only responded with a "hmmp" noise as he buried himself further into Zira’s neck. "My dear," Zira repeated a little more forcibly.

Crowley glanced up then, snapped out of the moment. "Yeah?" Crowley asked, a look of worry on his face, "You okay angel?" His brows knitted together with genuine concern.

 _Oh how sweet of a man he is_ , thought Zira, before saying "I believe, we uh, should stop. We are both a great deal inebriated, and this is all moving a bit fast. "

Crowley’s face immediately deflated. Zira all of a sudden felt de'ja'vue as he stared at Crowley, and immediately guilt set in. Why was he so bad at this? Nothing had ever been this hard. He felt hot wet tears forming but quickly blinked them away, refusing to ruin the moment more than he already had.

"Too fast?" Crowley asked rhetorically, looking a bit lost like he did from time to time, not really staring at anything. Zira didn’t realize that those two words had knocked all of the air from Crowley’s body. Currently, a flash more powerful than any before had hit his mind with the force of large truck.

_You go to fast for me Crowley…._

The words in Zira’s voice…an image of Zira’s face filled with despair.

All of a sudden it was _too_ much for Crowley.

"Right, yeah, of course" Crowley said as he peeled himself away from Zira. He stood up, swaying a bit on his feet as he looked around the floor. He bent down to scoop up his sunglasses before placing them on his face. Zira stood as well, smoothing the font of this clothes out of habit.

"Why don’t we just listen to music? Maybe have a bite to eat and some tea? Then we could possibly talk a bit," Zira asked trying desperately to salvage the night.

Crowley’s face was obviously red, but unreadable. "Nah, I best be off. Things to do in the morning. "

"You can’t drive home now Crowley. Just stay. Please.” Zira’s eyes were wide and pleading, but Crowley could only feel the need to escape; the need to crawl back behind his walls.

"S'fine angel. Jus'walk home. I’ll pick up the car tomorrow" Crowley replied already making his way towards the door. "We can talk tomorrow, sober and all that."

Before Zira could reply or stop him, Crowley was already making his way out of the shop.

Zira felt a pain like knives in his chest as he sat back down on the couch. He heard the door close as Crowley left, and he finally let the tears fall down his face.

Why was the pain he was feeling as familiar as his fondness for Crowley?


End file.
